"there was nothing there!"

it's reasonable to assume
that a reptilian
Fear of the State
welling up from the timid
reptile region of me
is what caused
the tears to spill over my
wine and salt-fattened cheeks
that day some years ago,
when the nice policeman circled back
and accosted me for
walking in the open air
with an open bottle,
and not, as he said, the decency
to disguise it.

But when he was done administering
his version
of Justice-by-tedious, drawling, solipsistic lecture,
and i was then obliged to offer
my minute's minuet of being
cowed and eager to explain myself, officer,
what should happen
but a big greasy plump tear
of sick-souled heart-burn
spilled greedily down my right face.
he got the unstately raw version.
I clutched that bottle
like an I.V.
and told him why i looked
like i did,
and then he was the one
who felt cowed,
and sorry for his crimes, and drove off with his
officer's mind all heavy
with some permanently open 
and weeping love wound
from his past,
it's reasonable to assume.