No one wants to hear
I’m sorry to inform you
No one wants to find
A highway patrolman at their door
No one wants to see
Two soldiers in dress uniform coming up their walk
No one wants to hear
Are you sitting down?
As another refugee dies
camped along America's southern border
a poor family seeks law and order
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And the family cries.
They didn't expect to find hatred here
it's another burden that adds to their fear
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
People, don't you understand
these people need a helping hand
or they'll grow to hate America someday
Take a look at who they are
can't you see they've traveled far?
Do we simply turn our backs
and send them on their way.
Well, the world turns
And Latino families with little food or clothes
are stopped at the border, where the hot wind blows
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And their anger burns
So they start to climb the fence at night
they learn how to sneak
and they learn how to fight
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
Then one night, in desperation
they pay coyotes to smuggle them away
hiding in the trunk of a car
afraid of being caught crossing the Rio Grande
by an ice patrolman with a gun in his hand
But they don't get far
And the family cries
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And as their dream dies
(In Mexico)
Camped along America's southern border
another poor family seeks law and order
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
Mr. Cheetah’s wife was yelling “Give him a ticket! Give him a ticket!”
He outraced two pickup trucks and an antelope down in the thicket.
The highway patrolman was on the chase immediately, ready to write.
Hurry! electronic dashboard said. In a second he will be out of sight!
He'll run seventy miles an hour, robotic voice said in a persnickety way.
You’d best give chase in the most enthusiastic, exuberant way!
Highway patrolman, had heard of cheetahs racing, but this was new.
He'd never tried to outrun one in a car, he swore the air black and blue.
Cheetah had now been joined by a friend who gave Zeke the eye.
He wondered how many others in their clan would be running on by.
He put on his siren and made as much noise as he could to stop them.
You had better stop! His wife cautioned her husband. Her face grim.
Cheetah stopped suddenly, and waited for his ticket to be written out.
That the other cheetah had made him do this, Zeke had little doubt.
She was gloating in a way that the patrolman had seen in his own life.
I’ll be snickerpackered, he said to himself. I guess she is his wife!
The woman was belligerent, arrogant and rude.
Almost nasty, full of vinegar, indignant fortitude.
Please settle down, he said to her.
Trying his best in his patrolman way
To let her know it was not the end of the world.
On this wonderfully sunny day.
She bit and clawed and spit and kicked.
And this was just through the window of her car.
He asked her to please settle down, but she went a bit more far.
She wailed and screamed and screeched and hit.
He did not quite know what to do.
He had never given his wife a ticket before Tuesday
And now he had given her mother one too!
I was happy in a dysfunctional relationship
Never wanted to leave this man
Who put me down and made me feel
Like I was just a little crazy
Or maybe – a lot crazy
We had something special even though it hurt
The way we tortured one another with love
That should have been faithful and true
But was really adulterous and shrewd
I was happy with my place as a wife
To the man who I loved despite
Drunken moments of deception
And dreaded pain of rejection
He was my love
And oh, how I loved this man
He held the world in his hand
I married him young, just seventeen
And discovered that he could move the earth
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t perfect
In my heart, I saw him as flawless
He looked like a classic Marine
Or a highway patrolman
He would have fit the uniform
It was love, though, that made him so special
It wasn’t that he sang me love songs
Or made me feels so blessed
With gifts of acceptance
It wasn’t that the bad outweighed the best
Feelings that were hurt beyond grief that lasts
When we parted there was everything left
To say and yet we said – nothing.
Please stay off icy
Nineteen-year-old-girl is dead.
Please stay off the roads
Highway patrolman on news.
Is begging us to stay home
Ice under the snow
Do not travel anywhere
Car ran into bridge
East I- 70 is closed
Highway patrol is crying
Please stay off icy
Your life is too important
Your children love you
Nineteen-year-old-girl is dead.
Please stay off the roads
The patrolman pulled away slowly from the drive through
Black coffee hot, almost blistering his hand – but a comfort just the same
He couldn’t remember it ever being this blustery in November
Visibility was almost zero on the lonely street tonight
His foot slammed the brake – what was that?
A mangy mutt, his head down, scuttled out of the lane
Carefully he guided his cruiser into the alleyway
Half expecting to see her again, hoping not to
The faint pink of her jacket coated in white powdery snow popped into his lights
Foreign against the darkness and desolation of the abandoned building’s doorway
He pulled slowly to a stop in front of her
Going to the young girl he lifted her gently and carried her to his car
She was not that much older than his own daughter
Yet their lives were worlds apart
Just another Saturday night on patrol
If only he could go home…
She glanced up furtively from the shelter of the doorway
Huddled against the cold
In a tattered spring jacket three sizes too big for her
Bitter winter wind rushed down her neck and through her sleeves
A scruffy stray dog sniffled at her suspiciously, hopefully
Then sauntered off down the dark alleyway
The brown skin of her fingertips was tinged bluish white
So she tucked them into her armpits for warmth
She had long since stopped shivering
The headlights of the cruiser shone upon her like the morning light
Bold, bright and blinding
The patrolman reached down and picked her up effortlessly
Carrying her to the warmth of his car
Her body stiff from holding her bent position for so long
She went through this far too often
If only she could go home…
And I cried, there was nothing else I could do.
Laughter echoed down these halls, now silent
Wait…you say…Wait for what? Wait for Who?
NO…Now... now is all there is, Now… fading.
You know the difference… But does it matter?
You’ll understand it altered. If you stand over there.
The meaning changes, a matter of perspective
Its a raging kaleidoscope of confusion
This just in to CNN World News Headquarters
Three Plaid Players shot four Paisley Patrolman.
A Pity Party spokesman proclaimed the possibilities.
So down the rabbit hole we go with Larry
Curly Schemp and Mo
Poppy the parrot
Picked pus from a pimple’s peak
but then Poppy pricked Poe’s pajama pole
Patrolman Pat picked Poppy up by his beak
Prisoned Poppy pleads for parole
and pecks popcorn and crumbs all week