A policeman stopped me the other day
on a technicality, for not wearing
a seat-belt; or it seemed to me just then
to constitute. He had whittled it down
to the precise offence, penalty code,
and issued a ticket, a thirty pound
fine: and asked me if I had anything
to say: No? 'None' he straightway filled the space.
It was I who wished him, 'Good day.' He left.
The after-shock to my integrity
was slow to dissipate: much more than this,
the possibility it needn't have
occurred, the torment the precision of
timing that made our paths to coincide.
A previous unrelated incident
meshed, not without some shade of its denial.
Unkindness. In my hand the ticket weighed.
It was a sweet act, something made in heaven.