Application for Pardon by Chris Sorrenti
it was a game
like none I’d ever played
the prize...my future
the interrogation room...
sinisterly clinical
like something out of a cold war movie
just a table, chairs...
two RCMP detectives
sitting across from me
no lie detector...instruments of torture
only my face…
and their questions
on whether the past was still my present
despite twelve years without subsequent arrest
warned me they already had the answers
if I lied...would automatically disqualify me
but how much did they really know?
I told them it wasn’t
then threw them a bone
I still smoked...at the occasional party
no chemicals...
dealing...
they were on me like a pair of Dobermans
questions intensifying
building to crescendo
full-time job...joint custody of a son
my only saving graces
and then it was over
told me they’d be in touch
my impression...they believed
but what were those pages
sticking out from under my application?
resembling...
wiretap conversations
© 1989
1,030 hits as of November 2024
12/30/2017 Author's Note: I got the pardon, and not long after, the above poem to go with it.
Posted on 12/30/2017 Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti
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