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03 March 2009 @ 07:44 pm
Poetry - Bringing my Mother to the Police Station to Make Bail  
Title: Bringing My Mother to the Police Station to Make Bail
Author: telturwen
Genre(s): Parody, Drama
Rating: E
Disclaimer: All the following content belongs to the author, save the general outline of the title.
Summary: The story of a neglected rich kid. He wants his mother's attention, but not even crashing his car and stealing from a liquor store is enough to distract her thoughts from herself for one freakin' minute.
Notes: This poem was inspired by Shoshauna Shy's "Bringing My Son to the Police Station to be Fingerprinted". Why such a long title, you ask? There are several different interpretations to this poem; one being the mother is trying to repress the fact that her son has to go to the police station; another that she is too self-absorbed to care where they are or why they're there. I chose the latter to base my inspirational poem off of.


Bringing My Son to the Police Station to be Fingerprinted
by Shoshauna Shy

My lemon-colored
whisper-weight blouse
with keyhole closure
and sweetheart neckline is tucked
into a pastel silhouette skirt
with side-slit vents
and triplicate pleats
when I realize in the sunlight
through the windshield
that the cool yellow of this blouse clashes
with the buttermilk heather in my skirt
which makes me slightly queasy

the periwinkle in the pattern on the sash
is sufficiently echoed by the twill uppers
of my buckle-snug sandals
while the accents on my purse
pick up the pink
in the button stitches

and then as we pass
through Weapons Check
it's reassuring to note
how the yellows momentarily mesh
and make an overall pleasing


Bringing My Mother to the Police Station to Make Bail

The waxed black paint chips
wedged in the dent of my Aston Martin
shimmered as I walked by it
in the Impound Lot
the scrape, shaved down,
held little color other than
the golden-brown tint
like the makings of rust

I walked past the waiting room
and saw the florescent lights
that made the officer's
uniform look like it was
overdue at the cleaners
the gray hue of the lint on the jacket
complimented it well

she was looking down
at her ugly monochrome outfit
while the dirty cop got out the ink pad
now I realized my fingers
matched my mother's heart

Music: say it aint so - finch