"Pastoral."
"There is the car, which won't start.
It's busted.
And furthermore, the damn thing's
whirring in the middle of the street.
And the poor sucker driver is pissed off.
He's in the middle of the street.
The street is in Manhattan.
And so you have to consider what the guy
in the white caddy behind him might have under his coat.
And you hope the poor red-faced SOB's luck
won't run from bad to worse.
Hope he doesn't leap from behind his wheel,
sopping wet with embarrassment, and scratch the other guy's
finish.
That's the sort of story the post loves to fish
from the police blotter.
The type of incident you were warned
against in driving school.
Never, never, never say a damn thing until the police arrive,
my instructor told me.
And meanwhile, a crowd has gathered, a line of cars
idle like butter in a fat man's vein."