If airport security had been primed to
seek out and expose the ridiculous she
would have been an instant celebrity.
I saw only the tail end of it – when she
repaired her outward expression built
by many buckled belts, bangles, tote
and shoulder bags, a boa wrap in fluff,
metallic sunglasses, accoutrements.
She was an ageing waif at least my age
thin as obscenity in tights suiting a teen
a wrinkled air of in-your-face innocence
flair too gauche to be not really meant;
she was aware metal detectors would crucify
her should she strut her stuff in impunity of
bizarre self-belief undressed to a point where
raw skeletal relief let her pass unhindered.
I watched as she repaired it all in practised
deceit – shook my head amazed caught an
amused eye of a female security guard shared
the faintest smile politely looked away...
© 21 June 2007, I.D. Carswell