Himself: Swam, found two jobs to apply for, tried to drop a windows installer on my computer. Herself: Swam, Poets Society, started reading a Dana Stabenow. Thinking about starting a new blog about the new quilt….working on the new quilt, that sort of thing. Taking the weekend off from blogging, and looking for all my old cops. I do miss them, and I have been seeing them in the news these last few days en re Comic Con. Gratitude: All those wonderful women writers who liked my chapbook. |
Old Cops
______________________
i
Old cops stand in shadows
hiding their aches, their survival, themselves,
leaning into hidden corners,
they scatter pleasantries
into the massive crowd
watching for miscreants
letting young cops stand in the light.
ii
Old cops cover their injury related retirements
with garish Hawaiian shirts
disguising the bulge of revolvers
of guns, of arms, as they move money
through the beer drinking revelers
they used to arrest.
iii
Old cops work with
feet in agony, backs fused, knees gone
pockets filled with nostrums
guaranteed to dull the pain,
they walk perimeters of sports,
concerts, games, gatherings,
waving paperwork instead of guns,
waving well-crafted words
to quell cacophonies, riots, and drunks,
they work addicted to their jobs
too broke to quit.
A Brown Trooper in full uniform.
Very poignant poem. Sounds as if you have met a few old cops in your time. Is this true?
ReplyDeleteWhat amazing costumes on those comic con people. They look so involved in it all and not the least self-conscious.
I really love the poem -- your insight to old and new is right on. Where was that trooper? Was he part of the comic book event??
ReplyDeleteThis is a rather sad and poignant poem. Oops... I just noticed that lilalia used the same word that crossed my mind. My brother works for the police department and isn't too young so this poem had relevance for me.
ReplyDeleteGosh, Maggie, is there anything you can't do? What a great poem.
ReplyDeleteThe pictures are wonderful. They would make great paintings.