The Love Police [poem]

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“Were you looking in your rearview mirror
when the crash took place?”
“No, officer. In point of fact my weariness
from all the disappointments of the race
had deflected my attention
so the driver in the dark
took advantage of my state
and she sneaked up on me
from behind. Thus, I’m truly guilty
of whatever charges you can find”.

“You should pay more attention, son,”
he said (his voice a smirk).
Although I never was his son
he felt he could address me
in this patronising way
for I truly had offended
all the withered ancient laws
which his desperate motley force
had relentlessly defended
for millennia and more.

The law of which I briefly speak
is called “Forever Exile” which
they forced us all to keep
so the world would no more
have to weep — abandonment
abolished with the flourish of a pen.
It was ushered on the statute books
with thoughtless undue haste
by shrivelled, gnarled and stunted
men who — despising what
they thought to be the
“wasteland of relationships” —
decided to commemorate
their frozen empty vision
with a punishable crime.

“In trouble once again?”
said his partner with a scowl
“Some people never seem to learn
they’re in and out
got no concern
for making sure
they keep the law.
Well now, old son,
you’re really screwed
you’ll pay the price
for bringing our beloved Exile
into such disgraceful disrepute”.

Just then my slimy lawyer came
his heart a three-piece suit
“I think we all can strike a deal —
no need to prosecute.
My client says he’ll nevermore
allow his mind to go astray
and let some strange seducer in
to smash his life and
take his heart away
if you will give him one more chance
to prove his soul will
no more want to dance
with siren maidens on the make
who only ever seek to take
from trusting unsuspecting
simple men”.

Now when I saw the brazen way
this advocate of compromise
this prostitute who crucifies
had sold me out with barefaced lies
I quickly rose up to my feet
with head held high and fast heartbeat.
“Hold on”, I said,
“I never said I’d make a deal
I think that stupid law
should be repealed” — at which
the whole assembled host
did gasp and splutter lunging
for their guns. But ready for
their violent deeds I threw myself
across the room and through
an open window I did fall.
Landing in the street below
a little broken (heart aglow)
I limped to see if I could find
the driver of that car behind
and take her face between my hands
then ask if she would care to dance
to be my partner friend in crime
and make a stand against the law
which puts hearts in a state of war.

So off we drove now on the run
fugitives we had become
united in a single cause
we made ourselves campaign outlaws
to overthrow the Love Police
(our friends all called us faux-naif)
and bring Forever Exile to its
scraggy little knees.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

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