<- Back to main page

2.5 Almonds

by Justin Hyde

 

a drug task-force detective

calls me

 

right away

i hear in his voice

he still believes in what he's doing:

 

'been on your parolee

over a month

pulled him over today

2.5 grams of crack cocaine

under the driver's seat

taking him to polk county jail now'

 

2.5 grams of crack cocaine

sounds pernicious

like the barrel of a gun

shoved down your throat

 

but take 2 almonds

bite a 3rd in half

drop them on a kitchen scale

 

there you go

 

his wife calls next

crocodile tears?

may-probably

 

it's all a bit shimmery

and quicksilver now

 

the only ineluctable

is that the bureaucracy has been turned on

 

he's on parole

there will be no bond

 

he'll sit in jail for the

next 3-4 months

 

while the county attorney hangs a

ludicrous sentence

over his head

 

he will lose his job

his apartment

who knows about the wife

 

i pull his paper file out of the active queue

 

walk over to the corner of my office

 

pull open the metal filing cabinet

 

and slide it behind the tab marked

 

'limbo.'