Ransom note said
                meet you at midnight
                under the neon
                windmill.  Now

                the brown sky sags.
                Leaves hang from wet trees
                like little trench coats--
                He's in big trouble.

                An ashtray:
                smoke seeps from a cigarette
                trying to escape,

                and everyone's got an alibi but him.

                The girl--she
                always knows
                what to say
                and telling lies gets easier, the more you practice.

                Will he come to love
                the beauty of three words
                said in a single breath?

                The Law
                guns the engine and waits for him
                in his dreams

                until screaming night-cars chase him
                into wide-awake.
                His hope is for a narrow escape.

                And you,
                you are the Dream of Law,
                desiring what you desire most,
                a spectator to spectacular play.

                
                It must change.

                            
Copyright © Robin Reagler, 2003.  All Rights Reserved.