Skip to content

Law Man

The cop on the corner must often get blue
As he sits in his squad car with nothing to do.
He nurses his coffee, he twiddles his thumbs
While he waits for a speeder, but none ever comes.
A disconsolate figure, he sits there alone,
And I think to myself, “Should I throw him a bone?”
I approach doing 50; it jolts him awake,
But then, at the very last second, I brake.
When I’ve slowed to the limit, I go on my way.
Don’t worry, Joe Friday, you’ll catch me some day!


Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *