Thank god!
for those pink
and Polish
chubby cops—classic Chicago-
accented brown
and khaki-
clad—ones
who come fast
who stop
and help
and hear—
by the disorienting-
ly flashing and on-
rushing roadside—your side;
whom, later-on
you remember
only—
such mawkish-
ly irrelevant
miniature things—a plain silver
band squeezing fat
and strong fingers—the ones
that executed
procedure so reassuringly
deliberately!—
the clean cold
glint of
a gold bar that stopped after
the letters -s-k-i—
the curious-
ly apropos
rhetorical fact
that after all that, it was
nothing—and they
simply necessarily never
ever
see you again.