caring

HAIKU

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Sweet Nothing

Carmel drips from her

perfect lips, but her sour

words kill the flavor.

C. L. Swinney (c) 2015

On Citing People, Part One

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On Citing People, Part One

I’m in vehicle sixteen and parked in

plain sight. Words-with-Friends may

be open, but I still study an intersection.

A tiny green “Smart Car” roars through

the limit line and I grin.

My cell phone hits my duty

bag as the accelerator is smashed.

The stares and mouths agape never

gets old. Within moments, I’ve tracked

my prey and call it in cautiously

checking for hazards. Patiently, I wait

for my gut and eyes to

digest what’s in front of me.

Ticket or warning? The egregious

violator pulls over. Cautiously, I creep

along his mini vehicle, tapping my

gun handle and peering  into the

cab, searching for the driver’s hands.

I start my spiel… anger and

saliva are his rebuttal. Geez

guy, it’s just a ticket…verbal

Judo fails, a soft smile fails,

hands conveying peace fails. I consider

a hasty retreat, walking away since

it’s not worth it, but I’ve

seen this routine before. Ah ha!

Now I smell it, the “medicine”

that causes some people to act

imbecilic. I’m into the car now,

sniffing and searching like a canine.

I find his stash, the reason for

the deflection, his attempt to throw

me off my game. Now he’s

in handcuffs, and I smirk.

I impound the “Smart Car,” which causes

the tow truck driver, a mean,

gruff, and burly man, to point

and chuckle at the accused…judging

him without a robe or wig.

Joe

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Joe:

Blood, and other stuff in my veins, is lethargic. I negotiate a kiosk and lumber toward the bevy of people lined up like candy bars in a vending machine, some anxious and some fearful, to be selected. A myriad of lifestyles gather in a tumbler seeking a reason to punch the clock another day. A loud gum chewer smacks and twirls surveying temptation, while the rest of us grovel with sullied thoughts. The espresso gadget’s clamor infuriates my needs, since it’s not for me as it chimes for another. My time comes. My heart palpitates without the need for narcotics. Then caffeine, and whatever I adulterate it with, is stirred, always clock-wise, immediately drawing my palate erect. Cautiously I cradle my tin cup up to my lips and tip ever so slightly.

Compassionate Cops?? 5-9-14

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Another one!

I was at the local coffee shop grabbing a cup of joe, hold the half and half, and noticed a homeless man kind of loitering in the street nearby. He seemed out of place, lost maybe, and disoriented. Several of the patrons in the store were snickering and making snide comments about the man. I’d seen him before, but he was never this bad off. I was about to order my breakfast and felt something inside me saying, this just isn’t right.

I went outside and began speaking to the man. Instantly I see he’s prideful and agitated. His clothes are dirty and his shoes are torn and ragged. I looked him in the eyes. What I saw was sadness and desperation. Nevertheless, a man in his shoes, unlike many other homeless folks I’ve met, would not and has not ever asked for money. He cannot work due to physical injuries. I have no idea if he collects welfare. I have my own opinions about the welfare system. I feel I have to pay for everyone who doesn’t work as well as for myself and family, but when you’re right there in the moment, you can’t think about that because it really doesn’t matter then.

I offered to buy the man some food and drink. He refused and became agitated further. Obviously I’d disrespected him. Now an audience had formed at the coffee shop.  I felt the stinging glares on my back and heard the giggling. I resisted the urge to identify myself to him and ask him to kindly move along. That was the easy route.

Finally he asked, “What do you care?” When I’d asked him if there was anything I could do to help him.

Hmm, great question I thought. “Because someone has to, right?” He just looked at me funny.

“Listen, bub, why don’t you just leave me be?” He asked. I could tell he was hungry because the people who came outside with muffins and bagels caught his attention. He stared at the food as it went by.

I replied. “I can’t. You might get hit by a car. Why don’t you take a seat,” I said as I pointed at the bench in front of the store. He looked at me and we stared at each other. I could only imagine what was going through his head. He finally went to sit down. He stumbled and began to fall. Without hesitation I grabbed him and dropped some cash on the ground right where he was. No way anyone saw that. A lady came out and helped me stable the man and get him seated.

Once he was content, I pointed to the money and said, “Hey, you dropped some money.” The man looked at the money, at me, back to the money and shook his head.

“Not mine.”

I shook my head. “Me either.” Obviously this wasn’t going to work. I was frustrated, but determined to find some way to help him. As I struggled for another idea, a man exited the coffee shop and asked if he could help.

“Sure,” I said.

He began speaking to the seated man and he listened intently. The man from the coffee shop offered the man a place to stay and wash up and said he could pick from his clothing and shoes to get him back on his feet. I was shocked. More importantly, the man agreed! I was pretty happy for him, and thankful the stranger came along to help. They turned to walk away.

I shook both of their hands and patted the homeless man on his back. At the same time I slipped some cash in his coat pocket. I’ll never know what happens with him or the money, but it seems by just talking to him, reaching out to him, he will have at least a decent rest of today. And, isn’t that all we can ask for? Just live day by day and try to be happy.

Anyway, I’m a cop and there were several other ways, perhaps even less friendly ways, to have dealt with this situation. However, hiding problems is not the answer. Taking them head on, in my opinion, is the only way to deal with them effectively. Just remember there are plenty of compassionate law enforcement members out there trying to do good things for people.

C.L.Swinney