Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

The Color of Movement

The Color of Movement
A university student
spent the summer cycling
the States
with a controlled substance in his

At a bar on Route 66
he had a drink
with a local man
with the gift of gab
before going outside with him
to the alley.

They talked and joked
until a cop car peeked round
their shoulders.

He quickly put away
all incriminating evidence
and stood perfectly still
convinced of his constitutional right
against unlawful search and seizure.
His newly-found friend, however,
was less convinced,
sprinting off like
a bolt of lightning.

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9 thoughts on “The Color of Movement

  1. hummm, makes me wonder of the story


  2. Did your friend leave you holding the bag? That would be my guess. And, how did it turn out? You paint a moving picture with so few words. ;-)


  3. Love how the title fits in with the work as a whole (although I must admit, I know that from reading your hint in the comments; the significance of ‘color’ escaped me the first time around). This is timely given what’s going on over here right now.


  4. Perfect title for the poem! And I can understand why he ran – unfortunately the same is still happening now. It’s a shame some things are still relevant.


    • Thanks!
      Yes, it is a shame. Nearly thirty years have passed and certain things remain ever so much the same.
      One difference today seems to be in the willingness to shoot first and ask questions later. You’d have to be crazy to take off running from a police officer these days. Arguing would probably get you tasered.


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