the Vegetable Alibi
It looked like my rucksack
in an alleyway
but in Gap, France
mildewed green canvas
hand sewn patches
it slouched against a medieval stonewall
two Provencal cops hitch up their
heavy lead pants
interrogating the
owner of the bag about a head of lettuce
in his hands
how could he be eating such
valuable produce?
was it stolen?
your tattoos were backed by the Cote dAzur
they were here to give you
a hard time sadly
your lettuce had an alibi
the market next door vouched for your
ownership
the cops tugged on their bullet proof
detective skill, 'don't be here when we get back,'
they said,
merci
you pulled sadly at your beard
to the rhythm of their footsteps hiked
bag onto shoulder
its empty stomach sagging--
c'est bon c'est bon c'est bon
--to forage for another stretch of pavement
in another sunless alley
in this decayed
somewhere
No comments:
Post a Comment