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Bad Poets on the Road

The engine cranked over but did not catch. Dylan released the key and frowned. He turned to the passenger next to him, then looked over his shoulder at the two in back and said, "I thought it sounded like a Rottweiler singing hip-hop that time."

Edgar leaned up from his rear passenger seat. He said, "Try it again."

" Tis no use how hard I try,

The gas is gone - the tank is dry."

Edgar answered, "Yes, I know, but the rhythm was pure ... inspiring."

A tapping sound filled the interior of the Fiat, which had begun to intermittently flash indigo a few minutes earlier. Cassandra remained silent in the rear driver's side seat, as she had for the entire six-day trip. The front seat passenger, William, nudged Edgar and pointed to the uniformed officer at the door. He was making a cranking motion in the air and pointing at the window.

"Yes, yes, I know, I see him, but I don't have a lever ... just this button. Do you think I should lower it?

William pinched his chin and nodded.

The officer began speaking before the window was fully down.

"Good afternoon. I'm Officer Stanley. Is there some sort of a problem ... can I be of some assistance?"

The three poets exchanged glances and shrugs. Dylan looked up at the officer and smiled. "No thank you."

The officer stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Look. I followed you for several miles, clocked you going as slow as thirty-eight and as fast as seventy-four."

Dylan asked how he liked the cadence, and Stanley answered that he thought it disrupted traffic flow on the interstate. Stanley then asked why they'd parked on the shoulder and the three men explained that they thought it would be safer than stopping out in the lanes. When the fact of the empty fuel tank bubbled up, Stanley asked if they'd called or sent someone for gasoline.

Edgar offered an answer from the back seat in the form of a question. "But wouldn't that be forcing a resolution. It seems so contrived."

Stanley leaned in the window and sniffed. He asked where they were going and Dylan explained that they were bound for the poetry convention at the downtown civic center. Stanley thought a minute, and said that it was last weekend and that they'd missed it. Dylan answered that they already knew it and said that they had started out in time, but had gotten lost several times along the way. As a group, they decided that such a setback should not defeat them.

"You see, Officer Stanley", Dylan explained,

"Our journey has no theme or plot

No destiny

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