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Cuffed
Totally busted.
We are stuffed
into separate cars,
hauled off to city
jail. It’s a short ride,
not even long enough
to think about what
will happen next.
Poked. Prodded.
Grilled. Well done.
Through it all I stay
calm. Silent. The ball
is in—ha-ha-ha—
their court now.
I’m allowed a call.
Need to call some
one, let them know
where I am. What’s
happened. But who?
Mom? Don’t think
so—like she needs
more ammunition.
Brad? Uh-uh. He
never bothered to
check up on me.
One person might
actually care. One
person might
actually answer
