Standing smirking before the Desk Sergeant
with handcuffed and sprained wrists.
“For the umpteenth time: NAME?”
I receive a stinging blow from the left hand side,
my cheek bursts into flame, I smirk again loudly.
“We can do this all night, Tristram.
Now one more time: NAME?”
He sounds very angry,
like his voice is being cheese-grated through hatred
but his eyes dance with amusement and happiness.
I make him repeat the question 3 or 4 more times
before I smirk once more and answer accordingly.
Written by Paul Tristram
Available to buy via Lulu