Street Theater, by Karen Douglas

Posted on December 12, 2019

Parked at the curb, I am
boxed in by an unmarked car.

Plain-clothes cops emerge,
detain and handcuff a sad man

on the sidewalk, no conflict.
Through my windshield a cop

breaks the fourth wall, makes
eye contact. I hold his gaze

and nod as if applauding
his performance. I am audience,

he the lead actor.
They exit the scene, no drama,

no finale. I worry the plot
like a marrow bone,

scratch it like a rash,
revise and edit the narrative,

but the cops’ civilian clothes
did not come from backstage

wardrobe racks, their side arms
not stage props. The arrest sits

like a stone in the river
as the rest of life flows around it.

*The Halcyone Literary Review*
Spring 2019