I Got Found Out

 

 

 

prelude

 

I saw my face on a wanted poster.

It was nailed to a tree.

It wasn't a flattering picture ~

taken from the 3B class photo.

I think my mum must have supplied it.

At the time I had Bell's palsy.

It was impossible to smile

and I shouldn't have tried it.

 

 

 

lude

 

I saw the suspect down by the pond,

throwing stale spanakopita at Stelios the Swan

while two lairy liver-lipped layabouts looked on,

their hands thrust deep in pitta pockets.

I decided to carry out a citizen's arrest.

"Come on son, have a word with yourself," I said,

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

It came as no surprise. The game was up.

I threw down my Bowie knife

and Bolan's zip gun and came quietly.

Still, not being one to take chances,

I slapped the bracelets on, just in case,

and duly marched me on down to the cop shop.

(Well, blow me if they weren't having a sale!

Up to 50% off all labelled officers!)

PC Ross took me in and threw the book at me.

He made it clear as Crystals Gayle & Palace,

in words of one syllable or less,

that it was me what done the crime

as well as a lot of other misdemeanours

that had unaccountably slipped my mind

and if I would kindly sign the statement provided

then everybody could go home early.

Everybody, that is, apart from me.

 

 

 

postlude

 

I was tried by a jury of my peers.

11 angry doppelgangers and Henry Fonda found me guilty.

I wigged out in the courthouse.

"Prisoner at the bar," I said, "I give you 25 years!"

I was going to sentence myself to death

but counsel protested that it wasn't the 19th century.

Surely history cannot judge me

more harshly than I judge myself.

 

B.R. 13/02/2014