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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. 

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