during third block. Spanish.
Uh-huh, I’m ditching. Oh, well.
I stand on the side of the gym,
where hopefully no teachers will
notice me, waiting to do one
more wrong thing. Okay, several
wrong things, all at once.
I can’t help but think about Ian,
and I can’t help but wonder
what I can do to shut Madison’s
big mouth once and for all.
It’s a quandary, needing a fix.
Maybe getting my head will
fix it. I sometimes believe I think
best when I’m the most loaded.
Probably just wishful thinking.
But hey, here comes my ride.
Once Again
My escape is successful.
Once again
Mick greets me with an
uncomplicated Hey.
Once again
he points the Avalanche
away from town, heads
into the countryside.
Once again
he leaves it to me to roll
and light a fatty. Has it only
been a few days since I last
indulged this not-so-bad habit?
Once again
we engage in easy sex,
hardly a word exchanged
between us. We are so not
about conversation, and only
body-to-body communication.
Once again
we clean up the obvious,
straighten our clothing, pop
a few breath mints, and start
back toward school. Only
this time, Mick’s erratic driving
draws unwanted attention.
He Announces the Problem
With a most eloquent
Holy fucking shit.
It is then I notice the flashing
red and blue lights coming
up fast behind us. Holy
fucking shit is right.
Down go the windows,
nothing obvious about that,
but the damn truck smells like
a den of promiscuous skunks.
Mick doesn’t have a choice
except to pull over.
This could go a number of ways,
from a simple ticket to a trip
to county lockup. I hope
it’s Option Number One.
But as the cop—
a burly deputy sheriff—
strides purposefully closer,
my heart slides down into my gut.
Poor Mick is white.
Do something!
Do Something?
Is he talking to me?
“Like what, exactly?”
I dunno. Tell him
you’ll give him head?
Hmm. Nah. “Just shut
up and don’t panic.”
Believe it or not, he shuts
up. As the cop reaches
the window, he sniffs.
Uh, license and registration.
Mick digs for his wallet,
reaches too quickly toward
the glove box. The cop’s hand
dives in the direction of
his holster. Easy now,
he urges. Open it slowly.
What? Is he thinking gun?
“No problem, Officer,” I say.
He looks across Mick, to
me. Instant recognition.
Hey. Aren’t you Kay
Gardella’s daughter?
Damn news conference!
What can I say? “Mm-hmm.”
This, Too, Could Go
A number of ways, depending
on how the guy feels about Mom.
Maybe even how he feels about Daddy.
Both of my parents carry plenty
of baggage—both good and not so—
with local law enforcement.
See, before Mom ran for Congress,
she was a county supervisor.
Not everyone was always happy
about the decisions the board
made, especially when they
involved money. Still, she has always
been a fan of law enforcement.
As for Daddy, his decisions aren’t
always favorable toward the arresting
officer, although Mom is right. He’s
a reasonable judge who does the best
he can within the structure of the law.
So, depending on too many variables
to have a clue, the outcome of this
particular encounter is unpredictable.
And beyond all that, it just may come
down to how much of a tight-ass
this particular cop happens to be.
Unfortunately
It’s so tight it squeaks
when he walks. He takes
Mick’s information back
to his patrol car. We watch
in the rearview mirror as
he radios in. This is not
looking particularly good.
Back he comes, hand
dipping toward his hip
and what’s attached to it.
He stands back from
the door. Please exit
the vehicle.
Okay, really, really not
good. We exit the vehicle
and Mr. Policeman gestures
for us to move to the front
of the truck. I am an idiot!
Holy shit. My dad is so
going to be pissed!
I noticed a definite odor
of marijuana in your vehicle.
Have you been smoking
pot this afternoon?
Can’t see how lying is going
to help at this
Uh-huh, I’m ditching. Oh, well.
I stand on the side of the gym,
where hopefully no teachers will
notice me, waiting to do one
more wrong thing. Okay, several
wrong things, all at once.
I can’t help but think about Ian,
and I can’t help but wonder
what I can do to shut Madison’s
big mouth once and for all.
It’s a quandary, needing a fix.
Maybe getting my head will
fix it. I sometimes believe I think
best when I’m the most loaded.
Probably just wishful thinking.
But hey, here comes my ride.
Once Again
My escape is successful.
Once again
Mick greets me with an
uncomplicated Hey.
Once again
he points the Avalanche
away from town, heads
into the countryside.
Once again
he leaves it to me to roll
and light a fatty. Has it only
been a few days since I last
indulged this not-so-bad habit?
Once again
we engage in easy sex,
hardly a word exchanged
between us. We are so not
about conversation, and only
body-to-body communication.
Once again
we clean up the obvious,
straighten our clothing, pop
a few breath mints, and start
back toward school. Only
this time, Mick’s erratic driving
draws unwanted attention.
He Announces the Problem
With a most eloquent
Holy fucking shit.
It is then I notice the flashing
red and blue lights coming
up fast behind us. Holy
fucking shit is right.
Down go the windows,
nothing obvious about that,
but the damn truck smells like
a den of promiscuous skunks.
Mick doesn’t have a choice
except to pull over.
This could go a number of ways,
from a simple ticket to a trip
to county lockup. I hope
it’s Option Number One.
But as the cop—
a burly deputy sheriff—
strides purposefully closer,
my heart slides down into my gut.
Poor Mick is white.
Do something!
Do Something?
Is he talking to me?
“Like what, exactly?”
I dunno. Tell him
you’ll give him head?
Hmm. Nah. “Just shut
up and don’t panic.”
Believe it or not, he shuts
up. As the cop reaches
the window, he sniffs.
Uh, license and registration.
Mick digs for his wallet,
reaches too quickly toward
the glove box. The cop’s hand
dives in the direction of
his holster. Easy now,
he urges. Open it slowly.
What? Is he thinking gun?
“No problem, Officer,” I say.
He looks across Mick, to
me. Instant recognition.
Hey. Aren’t you Kay
Gardella’s daughter?
Damn news conference!
What can I say? “Mm-hmm.”
This, Too, Could Go
A number of ways, depending
on how the guy feels about Mom.
Maybe even how he feels about Daddy.
Both of my parents carry plenty
of baggage—both good and not so—
with local law enforcement.
See, before Mom ran for Congress,
she was a county supervisor.
Not everyone was always happy
about the decisions the board
made, especially when they
involved money. Still, she has always
been a fan of law enforcement.
As for Daddy, his decisions aren’t
always favorable toward the arresting
officer, although Mom is right. He’s
a reasonable judge who does the best
he can within the structure of the law.
So, depending on too many variables
to have a clue, the outcome of this
particular encounter is unpredictable.
And beyond all that, it just may come
down to how much of a tight-ass
this particular cop happens to be.
Unfortunately
It’s so tight it squeaks
when he walks. He takes
Mick’s information back
to his patrol car. We watch
in the rearview mirror as
he radios in. This is not
looking particularly good.
Back he comes, hand
dipping toward his hip
and what’s attached to it.
He stands back from
the door. Please exit
the vehicle.
Okay, really, really not
good. We exit the vehicle
and Mr. Policeman gestures
for us to move to the front
of the truck. I am an idiot!
Holy shit. My dad is so
going to be pissed!
I noticed a definite odor
of marijuana in your vehicle.
Have you been smoking
pot this afternoon?
Can’t see how lying is going
to help at this
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