Moline-Chicago-Boston-NYC

Jaime Lam, United States

—After Dimitrov

I am making love

to memories of airports.

Something about freedom,

something with identity—

maybe those are the same

or the exact opposite. This is

not about flying—far from,

but being naked.

I was alone every time

I’ve gone, worshipping

my independence and strangers.

No one knew who I was.

An eighteen-year-old—

told she looked twenty-five

and acted so—

in a red scarf, in black

dresses, reading

books and drinking coffee like

she drank coffee all the time

chasing connecting flights

to New York City. I cried

only once—landed, done, and

lost. But damn,

all those inbetweens.

Jaime Lam is a queer, biracial tea fanatic. Graduated from Knox College, she majored in English and Creative Writing. She tends to lean towards poetry, essays, and the wilder card of urban fantasy. Jaime is from the corn part of Illinois, despite always trying to not live in Illinois. As a person, she has a habit of laughing ridiculously hard at her own jokes, makes too big of a deal of someone’s birthday, and wants to personally remind you to drink water. Her work can be found in Viewless Wings, Breakbread Lit, Papers Publishing, Glow: A Selfcare Anthology, and Sandhills Literary.