Fantasy. Take a second look. This is literally one angle on the only fiance I've ever had. No joke. Mebbe see the sonnet titled "why did you hafta die?" next?
(sonnet # DCCCXXV)
We skidded round the corner and the p'lice
Were in our face. "Oh boy, we're out of space
Babe--just be brave, we're gonna win. Disgrace
Will keep them on our case 'til we decrease
Those *******. 'Til they skulk and beg for peace.
Now hang on tight"--(shifts in reverse)--"and brace
Yourself"--(tires squealing loudly)--"we'll retrace--
It might be hard--hold on--don't drop your piece!"
We ducked our heads, careening blythely through
A blockade, sending cars flying everywhere.
Out on the open road 'gain finally, too
Alert to miss a beat--"Get ready! Ere
You see them--fire! This is our rendezvous--"
We won at six. He's now their head. Take care.
05May12
D185c
*Original intro: Jesse (a friend and fellow online poet at the since extinct Poetfreak.com)'s comment on "At 6AM...on Saturday" (the sonnets immediately preceding this number) prompted this. [pure fantasy] Obviously I can't get Hollywood to hire me. But it was jolly good fun to write.