Checking Your Bags
In a theater or museum
Someone’s there to check your bags
And I wonder what exactly
An inspection like that snags.
Are there weapons nestled next to
People’s wallets or their phones?
Have they confiscated contraband
That some attendee owns?
As the line moves up, my bag’s unzipped;
I let them glance inside.
Although they have a flashlight,
There’s so much that I can hide.
But I don’t, of course, and neither do
The visitors behind me.
I think of 9/11 then;
Precautions still remind me.
The bag check’s just a surface ploy
So we can all pretend
That we’re safe, but that’s the error
On which terrorists depend.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
