Fucking Spaz by David Boski

We were stopped at an intersection;
I had grabbed my phone to view
a text when suddenly I heard a tap
on my window and saw a female
police officer standing beside me.
I let down the window: “license
and registration” the officer said.
I put up the window, looked at my
fiancé and signalled her to retrieve
documents from the glove compartment
all while yelling out “are you fucking
kidding me? you fucking cunt!” in frustration.
I heard another tap on the window: it was the
female police officer again, standing there with
a look of shock and disgust on her face.
I let down the window: “excuse me sir,
did you just call me a cunt?” the officer
asked angrily: “yes, you’re pulling me over
cause I looked at my fucking cellphone at a
red light?!” I said: “no sir, I pulled you over
cause your sticker is expired!” she answered.
I handed her my documentation: “is there a reason
there’s two different addresses here?” she asked:
“I forgot to change my address” I said: “ok, please
pull around the corner, to the other officers over there.”
I put up the window, looked at my fiancé, and she said:
“Jesus Christ David, you’re a fucking spaz!”
I waited for the tickets, feeling like a proper cunt.

David Boski lives in Toronto. His poems have most recently appeared in: Down in the Dirt: Synchronized Chaos: Rusty Truck: Zombie Logic Review: Winamop: Beatnik Cowboy: he has a forthcoming chapbook being released by Analog Submission Press later this year.