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in a bit of a rush to
get the kids to school on time,
I’m pulled over by a (the?)
motorcycle cop.
As the long arm of the law
strolls up to my car window,
my oldest son, indignant,
loudly states the obvious:
Now I’m gonna be late! Sigh.
A view of the ocean. A car containing sand and soggy wetsuits. A house full of books, boys, laundry and love. A poem, a picture, a rumination.
boooooo. that blows. i've seen that chip. he looks surly. the morning i left the desert storm in your drive and walked down into town, he drove by on bluebird and looked at me, menacingly. did i look like a thief? a burglar? a drug mule? just a mom on her morning walk, officer. nothing to see here ... move along ...
ReplyDeleteAt least he didn't shoot you, Sweetie--same guy.
ReplyDeleteSigh = high schooler. :)
ReplyDelete