‘Step away from the poetry, madam.’
Busted – should have known they’re looking for me for serious crimes against poetry. I finish my line before I face them. Defiantly.
‘Officers, please have a seat. If you behave yourselves, I might offer you a treat.’
‘Enough with the terrible rhymes, you vandal.’
One tries to manhandle me away from my desk.
‘You know what I’ll do? I’ll write what I want. My lines may not scan as well as they should, but I’m gonna keep at it. Poetry’s here for good. How else will I improve?’
‘Good point,’ they say. ‘We approve.’