Dancing With Chickens Poem by Jon Edward Walker

I was still in the confused
state of mind
that when I got caught
I’d be able to go home
with nothing but a ticket
for which I’d appear for in two
or three weeks

Kevin bolted from the car
and ran down the middle
of the street
I relaxed knowing I was done
when I caught sight
of a cop running up to my car
gun pulled and screaming.
that’s a little unnecessary, I thought,
so I ran.
landing in a small chicken farm
after jumping the nearest fence
only god and the owner
knew why there was a chicken
farm downtown
hiding behind an 8 foot fence
the fat cop struggled
unsuccessfully
to climb this fence
his fat head sticking over
just enough
to see me dancing
in the chicken coup
while flipping him off
“come on fucker”
he and I both knew
he wasn’t getting
over anytime soon.
past the chicken farm
and near to freedom I saw the golf course
but missed the ravine separating me
from it
and I tumbled thirty feet
into train tracks below
injuring my ankle.
I looked for a spot to hide myself
hearing cops behind me
as I hobble run
across the tracks,
into another residential
neighborhood
and disappeared into a dumpster
I found through a different backyard
and waited
I heard
the jingling ornaments of
police officers near,
then not so near
and I tried to soften
my breathing
as I searched for the pint
I thought I had
and inwardly laughed
at the thought that
I was chosen to drive
because I appeared most
sober.