Here's a poem that my friend Pat Lewis, an award-winning children's poet, sent me the other day. Pat is generous about sharing his poetry with us bloggers.
TLC by TSA at LAX
His wand wends its way under my arms,
legs and back. At my groin, it suddenly
keens like a crazed buzzard about to eviscerate
a gazelle. The TSA guard, which I’m told
stands for Total Sensitivity Awareness,
suggests, “Remove your belt, sir.”
My belt, love, my criminal cinch
with the TH for Tommy Hilfiger
metal buckle. But even after the belt’s gone,
the wand won’t let up.
Beow, beow, beow, beow.
I’m ordered into a sunglassed chamber,
asked to lower my Fruit-of-the-Looms.
Oh, babe, here’s where it gets good.
You would have been so proud of me
when I showed them just how little
a threat I am to national security.
If only you had been there, darling,
you could have assured them
they needn’t have bothered.