Moving Violation
Oct 14 2008


A cop nabbed me for a broken headlight.
A “moving violation”, he said.
How odd, I thought.

I immediately pictured a virgin and me
in the back seat, skirt up,
picking-up speed
as the brake slips.

Or that glib white lie
we all eventually give —
“It’s not you, it’s me”
as we slink quickly off.

Or the tragic end
to Romeo and Juliet,
the forbidden love
I found so very moving.

Turns out, I got off with a warning,
and told to stick to the side streets.
So I drove
slowly, inoffensively home.