Djembe
Intercultural Magazine of Concordia College
My Utopia, America
Mari Aibara
I arrived at the Chicago airport,
the first step on the land of my utopia.
I could see people from different countries,
colorful and unique foods and shops.
I could see various kinds of muffins and donuts,
various colorful bags that contain mysterious snacks.
I could hear my favorite language, English everywhere.
Yes, this is what I expected!
I tried to use the public phone.
How do I use this?
What coin should I put in?
I stood still with my furrowed brow
looking at small and big silver coins.
I asked the clerk about my flight.
He said
"•*+v X"
My mind was overwhelmed with enormous words
that came out of his mouth in those few seconds.
Standing still with my furrowed brows,
I said "uh-huh'' as the actors in Glee use
when they understand.
Hmm ... Never expected these situations.
I tried to use my English
to the man I asked to tell me how to use the phone,
to the clerk near the departure gate,
to the woman at the pretzel store.
It took a long time to communicate with them.
Damn it, my Japanese English.
I sat on the blue plastic chair
with pretzel in my right hand
thinking of my mother's hand-made rice balls
that I ate a few hours ago.
I had my phone in my left hand
looking at the cheerful messages
that I got from my Japanese friends.
Oh, never thought I would miss ...
Big drops of tears are falling down my cheeks
Causing my utopia to flow away.