I unearthed this poem in my papers. I had written it about a female C.O. at County who could be a real sweetheart one day, and then a screaming harpie the next. (She'd get pissed every time we made her late to "pick up her grandkids," and I surmised she was probably taking care of them because she has a son or daughter who was a drug addict or in prison. Oddly, it is often the case with those in law enforcement that their in laws are often outlaws.)
Hava Nice Day
Why you so angry,
Ms. Deputy Nava?
Pissed off they didn’t want you.
at Yale or at Harvard?
Wouldn’t Hannibal Lecter.
Share his Chianti and Favas?
Or are you simply too fond
Of caffeine in your java?
“Less-go! Hoory-up!”
Can I please get my shoes on?
My appetite suffers
When the line forms in the john.
“Wassamatta you?
Wanna lose you program?”
Not really, Ms. Nava
But we’d love to lose you, Maam.
Before you reply,
“The feeling is mutual”
You might be reminded
You need us, we don’t need you.
Con-men or crackheads.
Neatniks or slobs,
Without us, Miss Nava
You’d be out of a job.
MCO 2004
Dont quite know how I stumbled accross your journal - but I must say that the entries I have read so far are absolutley gripping. One can truly sense the emotions surrounding your experience - poignant, at times painful, other times surreal. These are actually, "living entries" that convey, through your unique writing style, almost an embodiment of realism, of actually being there with you. That is the mark of good writing, my friend. The ability to transport a reader - and keep them there, its stunning to say the least. I will return to read more as time allows.
You ought to write a rock opera.