Arrested Things have a way of catching up to you Driving around fighting the hangover of Jack Daniel’s and Coke, driving through my city— The king of my city The pretty girls never find me, But bored police officers often do Apparently I have been driving with no headlights And I see officers flashing lights in the rearview It’s certain trouble, for I had two warrants out Against me for not appearing in traffic court, They pull me over and ask for my license and insurance And run a check on me They find out about the two warrants and tell me to put My hands on the hood of the car.  I have never been arrested Before and the cuffs are tight, like how all those people Complain on those cop shows on television, But is doesn’t bother me, being so dazed They check my car—for drugs, no doubt, But I don’t have any, they just confiscate About a third of a bottle of Jack I’m going to jail… I’m going to jail Is all I can thing about, while riding in the patrol car I just wanted some fun on a Saturday night And this was too much to ask for, as I wonder How long I will be incarcerated The cops are like bulldogs in appearance and demeanor So I expect very little mercy, if any, taking mugshots And waiting inside the holding cage I’m sure I’ll be there overnight, I tell myself while The cops transfer me to another municipality Where I have the other warrant, and They eventually pick me up and take me To their city jail One of the officers asked me will I be able to pay The $300 dollar fine and I tell him no, and they take Everything away from me: money wallet, shoestrings Belt and even my eye glasses, which without, I can See very little I wonder if there will be rats and roaches in my cell Like in the movies, but there is none Just the feeling of general loneliness with blurry vision The night and the hours bleating, staring at a black steel Toilet that doesn’t flush and fountain that doesn’t dispense Water And one is alone, I could be here for days If someone doesn’t come up with the bond money An icy blue thought, that wakes me up in the middle of the night A few times, and the blanket they gave was quiet thin, And doesn’t warm me from the draft of the cell My body shivering and thinking while The police officers speak dumb talk With the other inmates during the night “It’s hard being a policeman, firefighters make more money Plus everybody loves them,” one of the cops says An turnkey walks by coldly, holding my Fate I can only get of this room if they let me, Thus claustrophobia sets in for me, and I can’t take A shit in a place like this—the toilet won’t flush As things play out: Asking a bull dog cop for a cup of water, he won’t Give to me, listening to a woman, a couple of cells down Sobbing in muffled misery, too many men unzipping their Pants during the night As every pitch is fully heard during the night, feeling neither Angry or sad, just wistful Hoping something or someone gets me out