Police

The police arrived early; I woke and heard
their motor running.
I was up before he was out of the car.
I was dressed before he was fully up the sidewalk
to the house.
I had descended the stairs just as his fist
hit the door.
I opened the door full upon him
shaking the last disheveled hair down.
I tried to appear indifferent, as if I had
been up for hours,
as if I had been myself on the job all night,
as if I knew already what it was he would say,
and that I perfectly understood
and forgave him entirely.
"We have one of your dogs in the trap this morning,"
he said, "And I must issue you another citation."
"Yes, I'm sorry about that," I said,
"She slipped away last night.
I was going to call you but I thought she would come
back."
I was lying, really, I had not known
any of the dogs had left,
but this had happened so often I expected it.
It was part of living in Crete, Nebraska.
I think the police liked picking the dogs up.
It gave them a chance to ride in the car with a dog.
Otherwise they are not allowed.
Riding with a dog can be quite a pleasure.
I have often done it myself.