Driving home from Mike's place, stopped at a light. Up ahead party-lights, a cop standing in the rain waving the cars through one at a time. Out of the corner of my eye I notice something white against the wet dark background, and once again I'm glad I always try to have a camera with me.
If there weren't a cop two cars behind; if there weren't party-lights & a car accident just ahead; and if the passenger seat didn't hold a half-empty bottle of gin in my manpurse I would have circled around for a better picture.
Sitting up in the tree, unblinking, a sad wet witness to the slow procession of single-occupant cars, a lone lop-eared stuffy.
A wet poem.
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