One of these days, a black woman’s wig will

fall off her head, a black woman’s

hair will land at the feet of that TSA woman

who pats our heads

as if she had everything against us.

All that patting down of boobs,

the pushing against aching knees

as if anyone has ever brought down a plane

by inserting bombs under their old knees.

One of these days, all those blond clipped

hair pieces under my white girlfriend’s hair

will also come flying off

at the TSA check, those air blowing

X-ray machines, flying at the head and hair

as if hair had anything to do with bringing a plane

down. One of these days, a wig will take off

like a jet, flying away like a jet.


They come at us like we have done something

wrong for just being people. They come at us

as if the new padded breasts and buttocks

and fake boobs and fake parts of us

were in themselves capable

of hiding bombs and missiles, capable

of bringing a plane down.

They come at us as if they want us

to deposit our breasts at the check-in desk.

How many women have used their wigs to bring

a plane down? How many of us have

even used our jelly breasts to bring down a plane?


Yes, a woman has used her breasts

and her eyes, her big fat butt and her swinging

body parts to bring down a man

from his false height, so many men, going

down like falling jets in a bombing raid,

so many of them falling into deep ditches

losing everything, like Bill Cosby

and all of them men, losing it all, their old

loose selves, losing it all to the power

of a single woman’s smile, but a plane and a wig,

they don’t mix, and Lord knows

how unstable a wig is to carry a woman’s head

under its body, so, how could a wig

carry a bomb? Who told these TSA

people that a wig had such power?

Who trained them to pat down my head anyway?