They pulled Dad over on the way home
from visiting us at Aunt Louise’s house
where we were staying while the divorce
went through. His truck died, so he shut
off his lights, cranked it, and flipped
them back on. A cop thought it was a signal
cause there had been robberies in the neighborhood.
When they brought him in, he informed
the whole building what he’d like for breakfast,
how his cell should be decorated. A preacher
came to talk with him. “Do you save people?”
Dad asked. “Yes sir,” the preacher said, serious.
“Do you save women?” Dad asked.
“Yes sir,” the preacher said, a touch of pride,
this time. “Do you save prostitutes?” Dad asked.
“Yes sir,” the preacher nodded. “Well can you save
me a couple for Saturday night?” Dad asked.
CL Bledsoe is the author of a dozen books, most recently the poetry collection Riceland and the novel Man of Clay. He lives in northern Virginia with his daughter.
I love this poem! I think it's a scream!
Wow–packs quite a wallop…thank you for the writing, thank you for the sharing
Just great fun.