Internal Memo: The Hand of the TSA

I am the hand of the state, and I want to touch your genitals. Just a light pat-down before you

I am the hand of the state, and I want to touch your genitals. Just a light pat-down before you board the plane and fly away. Oh, don’t say no. You know as well as I do that we’ve always been intimate. I’ve known you all your life. I taught you how to read. You rode your bike down streets that I paved. I kept the park where you flew your kite. I kept the beaches clean and sandy so you could learn to swim. You drank water from my wells and reservoirs. When you went to empty your bladder or your bowels, I washed it all away. At night on the streets, I protected you, and when your house was in flames, I put out the fire. I gave you your uniform when you made the basketball team. I lit up the scoreboard when you sank the winning point. It was from my hand that you took your diploma, and with my boost that you went off into the world.

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It’s true that out of your pocket I’ve always taken a few pennies for myself. But you know I always give back better than I get. When you got that job at the bank a few years ago, I shifted the burden further from capital to labor, just so you could get rich, and rich you got. In your heart you know I like to take the most from those who get the least and keep them honest and tired while you grow rich and happy and fly around the world. If I ever spend a dime to dig a tunnel or subsidize a farm or build a bomb or start a war, it’s all so you can make a dollar. And when you fell down, I gave you my hand and pulled you up, let you keep your job. I bailed you out. I stimulated you. When you grow old and gray, I’ll still be there, changing your bedpan and washing the pills down your throat. Don’t tell me you’re not free, my Flower of the mountain, you’re about to blow away from me. Don’t tell me you’re not free, mountain Flower, I am the hand that keeps you free. Don’t say you don’t love me, mountain Flower, I was your nanny, I’ll soon be your nurse and you know I’ll always be your whore. 

So let me in. I want to touch you. My touch is soft, my hand is slow. Come to me now before you go. You are a Flower of the mountain yes and how I kiss you against the X-ray machine and then you ask me with your eyes to ask again yes and then I ask you would you take off your shoes yes to say yes your belt too mountain Flower and first I put my arms around you yes and draw me down to you so I can feel you all perfume yes and your heart is going like mad and yes you say yes you will Yes.


Internal Memo: The Hand of the TSA