“POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS”
by Bill Ward
2000
There is a place
Where lovers go
To sit in cars and watch the stars
From the top of the hill.
By night, it is magical.
By day, however,
It is just a wide spot
Along the ridgetop road.
Strewn with litter –
Beer cans, rubbers, discarded underwear
Tangled in the blackberry brambles.
Down the hill
A little ways,
Covered with vines down through time,
You can see rusted metal,
And fluttering in the breeze
Remnants of yellow tape.
© 2000 William R. Ward
All Rights Reserved.
Monday, June 5 2000, 7:15 PM
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