Pat-Down
My husband’s hip’s titanium
So he’s accustomed to
A pat-down at the airport,
Right in everybody’s view.
Yet ‘til now I’ve not experienced
An agent treating me
Like I’m a lowlife criminal
Who just might up and flee.
She touched my arms (extended),
Then my waist and hips and back
And next, each thigh up to the groin.
(How she deserved a smack!)
She let me know beforehand
That my buttocks she would feel
And when she did I thought
That all of it was just surreal.
I guess I was a random pick
But I was awful pissed
To be treated, out in public,
Like a thug or terrorist.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2022
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