Passport

There was a time when a seasoned traveler

had a passport with several marks
from places around the world,
imprints from rubber stamps

created by local artists,
unique to their own country
but now they only scan it, the imprint
is electronic, no physical evidence
left as a historic visit to foreign lands.

Passports were once sacred journals highlighting
stops along the way, Turkey, Greece,
Egypt, Italy, and the good old USA.

My picture now is linked to a facial
recognition bank, my finger print
accesses jobs as well as petty crimes.

My life in no longer a story for me to tell
all is revealed with a laser scan,
my history tells if I am desirable
upon this distant land.

My identity is no longer shrouded in mystery
my history an open manuscript;
where I’m going, what I ate, and the title
of the books I bought to read along the way.