When I was bad,
I mean young,
The summers in the city were
Mean hot,
Ran with the bad boys.
Not bad bad just teenage bad.

So the cops came and got us
Where we were hanging,
Took us down to the precinct,
Till around midnight.

Came home at one am,
My pop heard me come in.

Asked me where I'd been,
So I told him that I'd been arrested.

He thought for a second and said,
"Good. Now go to bed."

We never spoke of it again.

A thousand years later
I figured out why.

I had never seen my formal pop
In his underwear till that night,
And never saw him that way again.

He was more embarrassed than I.

Considered the matter closed and
My heart, full, finally, now.