Unwritten

Officer, pulled them over,

red and blue flashing,

a stern face at the window glass.

I watched from the cafe,

sipping my cold coffee,

expecting the pen,

the sharp rip of paper.

But he just leaned,

talked a long, slow time,

then straightened up,

and gave a single, slow wave.

The driver, a young guy,

shoulders slumped in the seat,

lifted a hand,

a stunned relief.

And drove away,

a chance given,

the fine, the points,

all unwritten.

Just like that.