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Border Security

Bruce Dawe

Dec 01 2011

1 mins

“Have you anything to declare?” they always ask,
And while, in all good conscience, we say, “No …”,
At times we’re first to take ourselves to task
And, being officially cleared, may straightway go
To that other customs desk that’s set within,
Where officers, accustomed to the lies
Expediency urges on us, will begin
To go through all our luggage while each tries
To explain it all away: the forbidden fruit,
The ornamental weapons never meant
For violent use, of course, and the medication
That could just be “prohibited” …
How readily bent
Is often the offence to the occasion!
Meanwhile we travellers traduce ourselves to stand,
Innocent passports in each trembling hand.

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