The blog of the traveller, observer and writer, Woz.
Happiness is the man with rhythm. Copyright © 2003-2021, Woz

Sunday, February 10, 2013

A poem about travelling


For 'RS'

When they selected me for the
'random security check',
I thought of you.

As the security official ran
practised, calloused hands
across middle-aged
plains and contours of jelly,
I spied your expectant, smiling face,
seated on a chair -
the best vantage point from
which to view my
prostrated helplessness.

And I think of you,
laughing
loud
and
heartily,
As the hand of US foreign policy
disappears up my rear.

It isn't very nice,
you git.

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