Armed and Dangerous

I  pulled over to the roadside,

Blue lights flashed behind me.

I opened my saddle bag, fumbled,

sought registration and insurance

At the bottom my beneath my papers

lays another bag, waterproof

Holding pens, pencils, my journal.

My addiction, my words.

“What might that be?” the cop asked suspiciously,

shining his light on the source of possible infraction,

hoping to make this stop other than “routine,”

seeking glory, an arrest, perhaps a clipping.

Armed and Dangerous

“It’s full of deadly weapons,” I replied,

his bright light blinding me.

“I’m a poet. I’m armed and dangerous.”

Bill  ”uglicoyote’ Davis 2009

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