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poetry Traffic Stop

What every driver dreads, a traffic stop, in the words of poet Pankaj Khemka comes to a peaceful end, a holiday gift.

Traffic Stop

By Pankaj Khemka

The officer asked, Do you know why

I pulled you over?  So I tried to explain about the correlation

between an unhappy childhood and the need

to pull, about how Elon Musk invented Teslas

because we're all characters

in Grand Theft Auto, about needing to outrun

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my future, but he wanted to see my license and registration

so I pointed at his chest with my gold finger (in the shape of a gun)

showed him the Valentine's cards stuffed in my glovebox

handed him a snapshot of my border collie at the beach  

because a badge needs a quota like a chew toy

needs a puppy, but he asked me to step

out of the car, put the world in a backwards spell,

touch my eyes with my nose

closed, so I put on my blue

shoes, walked heel to toe,

cartwheeled for the crowd, asked

If he could share his body-

cam video on my wall, which is to say I promised

to donate a kidney for the Policemen's ball, which is to say I signed

his autograph book

and as he rolled away, the radio played,

there will be an answer, let it be, let it be.

Pankaj Khemka is a practicing physician who often turns to poetry to express the everyday triumphs and tragedies of his work. He was recently honored as the March, 2021 "Poet of the Month" by Moon Tide Press.  His recent work appears, or is forthcoming, in Rattle, Star*Line, and Ghostlight.  He lives in Orange, California with Floyd the ficus.