Searched

I go along fine through the line with my friend,
at the Milwaukee airport up north. I hum a tune,
walk through check point, when the alarm screetches

and wails. They pull me aside, explain what they’ll do,
search me from head to foot. I stand at attention
while she puts on her gloves, eyes wide
while she covers each inch. Then inside my pants
to make sure there’s no bomb, under and around

my breasts. One last insult, she wipes down her gloves,
puts the offending pad in machine. I stood there
perplexed til the result came through, no doubt it shows

I’m Okay. I walk off in a daze, head held low, shoes
scrunched under my arms. I remember the thought
that came to me then, about how friendly they were

in the north. I walk past the shops to the left and the right,
I search where I might get a smoke. I see the cigar bar,
was jolted then, with remembrance that I don’t even smoke.