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WEREWOLVES, ZOMBIES, VAMPIRES? OH MY!


Please enjoy one of my most popular story poems'

POLICE STORY

The blue sedan whizzed by and ran a red.

The usual space for license plates was blank.

I thought the driver saw me turn my head.

Was this a crime or just some teen-age prank?

I was on his tail in seconds flat,

my siren undulating through the night,

white and red lights spinning on my cab.

What fright I hoped he felt upon the sight!

In truth, what fright I felt upon the chase;

four wheels screeching, tail pipe belching smoke.

The race was on and I was in my place.

There's no way this could be a prankster's joke.

Without a doubt, he now knew I was there;

but from his speed it seemed he would not heed

my vigorous attempt to interfere

and learn this fleeing felon's secret deed.

Down Second Avenue and then up First,

he zigged and zagged and tried to pry me loose.

Then crosstown, uptown, downtown, he reversed

and tried to shake me with a useless ruse.

In the right hand lane, leaning toward the right,

he ditched his car and took off, left, on foot.

I, on foot, was right behind his flight

into the streets on an erratic route.

Through the Wall Street canyons I pursued him.

He never seemed to tire or stop for breath.

Up Broadway to the Village. Things looked grim.

I wondered if he'd lead me to my death.

I was in great shape but I began to tire

as he rerouted to Delancy Street.

I drew my gun but did not dare to fire

as glancing back he beat his fast retreat.

I glimpsed his face there in the pale street light,

and saw his wet beard red with human blood;

My God! I hoped my distant night eyesight

had misconstrued as blood some harmless crud.

As we approached the Bowery and Grand Street

he turned to face me and I sure did see

large canine fangs shining in the street light

and feared that these would be the end of me.

On my usual beat in New York City

I'd seen all kinds of criminals and pests

including, once, a tipsy chimpanzee,

and other things that city life infests.

What this creature was I could not say.

A man with head of wolf confronted me.

What happened next I know not to this day.

I'm real confused 'bout what my eyes did see

and what my ears did hear at 5 AM.

It made me lose desire to be bold

and left me without any stratagem:

a howl that made my copper's blood run cold.

Suddenly, on that Sunday morning, early

(I'm reticent to share this thing with you),

the animal face that I saw so clearly

changed to a man's there on that avenue.

His longish snout, sharp fangs, and furry cheeks,

in an instant, or so it seemed to me,

accompanied by painfully loud shrieks,

became a head of handsome pedigree.

Rooted to my place, I watched with horror,

while he in turn took a good look at me.

His eyes revealed his torment like a mirror,

and, I thought, contained a strained apology.

With that, he turned and very swiftly fled.

I had no urge to once again pursue.

As daylight broke the darkness overhead,

my memories of the night were all askew.

Dazed, I made my way back to my cruiser

abandoned in the chase three hours ago.

I staggered to the car like a drug user

or a boozer stretched out upon skid row.

Reality was something I had lost.

Vampires and werewolves filled my turmoiled mind.

No other explanations ever crossed

my thoughts; and yet I'd never been inclined

to blame on ghosts and demons any crime

of passion...until this night of visions.

In memory I relived, in pantomime,

events I hoped were subject to revisions.

Exhausted, I collapsed into my seat.

The radio was on and blasting sound.

On the Washington Heights policeman's beat

a mutilated body had been found.

Underneath the bridge a man was murdered.

His corpse was hacked and bloody head to toe;

as though a pack of wolves had massacred

this unnamed man now known as Johnny Doe.

The police chief announced that he was puzzled.

Wolves were not a usual city "perp".

For safety sake the media had been muzzled,

the public's right to know had been usurped.

I shuddered as I heard this gory news.

Its connection to my nightmare was clear;

but reporting on my evening pursuits

could terminate my promising career.

Who would believe the transformation

I witnessed with my very own two eyes?

Enemies could use this information

to cut my reputation down a size.

So I chose to keep my scary story secret,

and hoped the monster's victims would be few.

I prayed that Hell would soon reclaim this misfit

and spare me from recounting what I knew.

That was twenty years ago this Sunday,

I've never told my tale to anyone.

Now I'm the top police chief of the city;

I've become our trusting citizens' "hired gun".

In all these many years since that Sunday

there's never been a rerun of that show.

Perhaps I just imagined things that Sunday.

I'd been without much sleep that week you know.

The fact is that I know the truth within.

The creature that I saw transform and flee

was real and he knows that I saw him,

and some day he'll be coming back for me.

###

Previously Published December 2000 in "Advocate," a PKA Pub.

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