“Come with me,” my dad said as he grabbed me by the shoulder and steered me toward his car. “Were you one of those kids who broke into Crystal’s Bar?”
“I was in the car.”
Silence.
The sun shone in my eyes as the chief of police questioned me on his front lawn. I told him almost everything that he wanted to know.
The chief took out the Miranda rights which were printed on a card.
“Read it.”
I read them.
“Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
The sun bore into my eyes.
In the background I heard someone beating her rugs.

–Jim Krotzman is a retired English teacher at Watertown (WI) High School. He is a struggling haiku poet and fisherman.