July 17, 1997
The grim cop stopped me
On the Pennsylvania
side
Of the Delaware
Water Gap
Where one highway bleeds
Into another and rolls along
The ridge of the Poconos,
Telling me this state has laws
Against people like me
With headphones on,
This hot day filled with
The roar of thunder
And static on those few
Radio stations my dented
Black car’s radio can receive,
A cop with his ticket book
Poised to empty my pockets
And finally sighing when I
Tell him I can’t find my wallet
Driver’s license or insurance card
Just a business card from my old job
Which I hand him with regret,
He telling me to stay where I am
As he hobbled back to his patrol car
To call for the tow truck.
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