10-39

By Daniel R. Jones

It was 1:27 a.m. when I awoke to a knock on our front door.

“Wasn’t Kaylee’s curfew midnight?” I asked my husband as I rose and peered through the blinds.

Two policemen wearing navy-blue peaked caps stood on our doorstep.

“It’s the police!” I told my husband.

“Are their hats on or off?” he asked, now sitting upright in the bed.

“Now what does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

But by the time I opened the front door, their hats were off.

           
Daniel R. Jones is a writer from Indianapolis with an MFA degree from Lindenwood University. His work has previously appeared in the South Bend Tribune, In the Bend, StarLine, and Parody Poetry. He won an award for best poem in the 2013 edition of Bethel College’s Crossings.