Sirens

August 1, 2011
Paranoid at the sound of sirens:
My wrists are too small for handcuffs.
I’m far too young to be behind bars that old, and thick, and cold.
Is it cold in jail?
I don’t know how this works.
Those words flutter through my mind, and stomach.
“You have the right to remain silent...”
Okay. I will, but please, don’t tell me so I can go free.
I don’t belong there.
It was just one night, ONE NIGHT!
I swear, I’ll never do it again.
(I threw away the paint cans.)
My heart races,
Feet- Heavy by shaky legs.
I shouldn’t have worn THESE heals today.
My friends from high school would think I’m cool for this
And laugh at my mug shot.
Can I wear my hair down at least?
Well, there’s that popularity I’ve always wanted.
And how do you plead?
Guilty, I say.
BUT-
It was just one time.
And one time is all it takes.
The handcuffs can be adjusted.





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