IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
Home
Table Of Contents
Authors
Acknowledgments & Links
 

AUTHORS


WHEN THE BIG BLUE LIGHT COMES A WHIRLING UP BEHIND

Peter Sears

Leaning back in the white vinyl of your rear-high Mustang, forest green shining in as big a Saturday sun as any June day could find, perfect for opening her out down to the beach when the big blue light comes a whirling up behind and pulls you over. The trooper fills your window. What’s the rush, kid? Let’s see your license if you have one. You fumble it out. Your fingers ache. He lumbers back to his car, sits under the whirling light and writes while traffic goes by like planes. How much is there to write? Here he comes. He hands you the ticket and license. Save your hotshot stuff for the amusement park. Kid, you drive like that again you’ll never drive again. He swings out into traffic. You wait and you wait longer. Then you start her up, signal, look, pull out and stick in the right lane. Your speedometer won’t stay steady. You try to breathe all the way through yourself. You would like to tell him where he can go shine his leather. You would like a button on your dash that says WINGS.

 
 
Website Design and Hosting by Allied Computing