The Line

image borrowed from bing

The Line

Sean would follow the familial edict

for the Murphys have always been cops.

He was born hungry for the badge,

would stand for hours in the iconic

“Hallway of the Constabulary”

staring lovingly at the police portraits

that lined the wall, stretching from

1899 to 1999.

He was naturally tenacious, 

and he remembered fondly 

the knuckle-kohl he created over the eye

of the stupid kid who had been 

erroneously eponymous when calling

his forbearers a “herd of pigs”.

He would be 19 tomorrow

and could barely wait to scrawl

his proud signature on the official

police academy application--

his chance, his turn to carry on

the Murphy legacy,

to become an urban warrior,

to protect and serve,

to hit the mean streets ready

to flick the silver snap 

over his service revolver, 

to finally gel with the Murphy 

version of “the long blue line” syndrome,

thankful that he also would be able

to capture his other dewy dream,

to move toward matrimony,

to make Katie his wife,

to finally lift that white tulle veil

in front of both their families,

to add her feminine strengths

to his perfect plans--

to create several sons,

to bequeath the pure police heritage,

to conjure up pride four generations deep;

but you know, if all he could produce

were daughters--that would be acceptable

too in this modern world

where women make hard ass cops,

and hell yes, his girls would be

the first femmes to join the line. 

Glenn Buttkus

May 2012. 

Posted over on Monday Melting 20

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