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Folks at the TSA can now use their palms
When they check our body parts for alarms.

We are used to being stopped for a forgotten buckle or loose coins
To say nothing of artificial limbs and titanium groins
And then shuttled off to a special queue,
One we expect will be in full view.

Patting down has become one of those well-worn routines
We're as responsive to as tinned sardines,
Even visits to a room where agents are quite serious
About finding what's hidden in lumps that look mysterious.

I’m not so sure how much more I want to share.
Must I strip down to show my underwear?