DWI, poem by CL Bledsoe

They pulled Dad over on the way home

from visiting us at Aunt Louise’s house

where we were staying while the divorce

went through. His truck died, so he shut

off his lights, cranked it, and flipped

them back on. A cop thought it was a signal

cause there had been robberies in the neighborhood.

When they brought him in, he informed

the whole building what he’d like for breakfast,

how his cell should be decorated. A preacher

came to talk with him. “Do you save people?”

Dad asked. “Yes sir,” the preacher said, serious.

“Do you save women?” Dad asked.

“Yes sir,” the preacher said, a touch of pride,

this time. “Do you save prostitutes?” Dad asked.

“Yes sir,” the preacher nodded. “Well can you save

me a couple for Saturday night?” Dad asked.

CL Bledsoe is the author of a dozen books, most recently the poetry collection Riceland and the novel Man of Clay. He lives in northern Virginia with his daughter.