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Fantasia for the Man in Blue

You know good and well you can’t be out here

in the dark morning to take in

the moon—full as the bowl of light

attached to this police cruiser. Like a grayed

elephant shoots air through its trunk

before it charges off to safety

from a mouse in one of those old black

and white cartoons, you shriek

in a debutante’s pitch,

even though, there are reports,

you are as large as an elephant.

Car thefts in the area,

the man in blue explains after

he asks, “Where do you think you’re going?”

It’s unusual to see your kind walking

at this hour. You’re an elephant

who’s really just a man sweating away

in a mascot’s costume. You mumble

an address; you fumble

for an address that isn’t your address

but mine. Oh, you’ve done it now—

don’t say anything else. Let me

take over this body; soften what letters

will bend—I am a poet after all.

Don’t worry. You’ll see. He’ll wish us

a good morning and let us go,

after he bends us over the black hood.

from Fantasia for the Man in BlueFind more by Tommye Blount at the library

Copyright © 2020 Tommye Blount
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.

Published in Poems Tommye Blount

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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