My hairdresser
pressed his fingers against my scalp;
my teller
had her eyes in my transactions;
my plumber
had his tools in my bathtub;
my physician
stuck his swab down my throat.
I get nervous thinking
how much of my private life
is in the hands of others.
In a society that sanctifies privacy
none of these should be tolerated.
Time to see my psychologist.
(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)
