On the Dumpster-Run
Seven squad cars
Must have been our lucky
number . . .
Then the paddywagon came
“We’re just waiting for Larry,”
we explained, while
Larry watched from an upstairs window:
his battered truck with the door wired on
full of shovels and tarps and saws,
our dumpstered roots and greens . . .
And none of us had shaved
Finally I gave in and showed them
our invitation to gather, the map
to our gathering-place
"We got us a hippie tribe!"
Sergeant Crawford crowed,
and they all broke up
laughing and let us go
(But the black dude
just rounding the corner
wasn't so lucky, they still had him
over by the paddywagon
when we left, his girlfriend
in the back of the squad car . . .
his name just happened to be Larry)