A Niight in Jail

[Billy]

A Night in Jail

Leroy Truck, or Track, he used both
as if it didn't matter which was right.
Dad, a New Deal Democrat, picked him
up off the streets, homeless,
gave him a job and a place to live.

Leroy had a widow's peak, hair
slicked back like a forties crooner
which was odd for a Lakota.

Dad bailed him out once a month.
A drunk Indian was high on
a policeman's list.

Leroy was like an uncle to me.
He let me drink with him,
which my dad didn't know.
Leroy was always laughing or smiling
like a mischievous kid.
He made everyone happy.

One night I was drunk and pissed off
about the way Leroy was treated.
I purposely screeched my tires
out front of the police station,

repeatedly. Finally, an officer came out
who knew my dad and told me
to go home, that there wouldn't be
any problem. Of course, that made me

madder. I said to the cop with a slur,
"If I was an Indian, you wouldn't
send me home." Well, that sealed
my fate. They said I could use
the phone. I wouldn't call dad,
spent the night in jail.

Late frost, daffodils withered
by morning. Drunks sleeping it off.



A Night in Jail

Leroy Truck, or Track, he used both as if he didn't know which was right. Dad, a New Deal Democrat,
found him on the streets, homeless, gave him a job and a place to live. Leroy had a widow's peak,
hair slicked back like a forties crooner which was kind of odd for a Lakota. Dad had to bail him out
nearly once a month. A drunk Indian was high on a policeman's list. Leroy was like an uncle to me.
He let me drink with him, which my dad didn't know. Leroy was always laughing or smiling
like a mischievous kid. He made everyone happy.

One night I was drunk and pissed off about the way Leroy was treated. I purposely screeched
my tires out front of the police station, repeatedly. Finally, an officer came out who knew my dad
and told me to go home, that there wouldn't be any problem. Of course, that made me madder.
I said to the cop, "If I was an Indian, you wouldn't send me home." Well, that pretty much sealed
my fate. They said I could use the phone. I wouldn't call dad and spent the night in jail.

late frost
daffodils cut down
by morning

[BobBradshaw]

Good one. I could also see this one with shorter line lengths, to suggest the N’s speech rhythm, like in many of your poems.

[Billy]

Is this better Bob?

[BobBradshaw]

Yes. I like the daffodils!

[CalebMurdock]

This is a good poem. You've got a little humor in there, which is always good when writing about the police. (Of course, the police stop being funny when they kill you.) The poem unfolds in natural language, and it is engaging throughout.

I hate super-long lines so much that I read only some of the bottom version. The shorter lines strike me as perfect. When printed, short lines result in more wasted paper, but they read so much better. (Having said that, I wouldn't make them any shorter. When a poet gets to putting one word on a line, that feels off-putting to me too.)

I don't like a lot of poems, but I like this one, and Bob's too. Three good poems about the police in one day! (Sorry for including myself in that.)