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uncuffed and printed Janet Kuypers started 4/13/15, finished 4/13/15, streamlined for 6/20/15 show 5/18/15 When I was arrested they put handcuffs (a little too tight) around my wrists, behind my back. They put me in the back of their squad car, took me to their headquarters, a little building you can only get to through the off ramp of the expressway. They sat me down, uncuffed one hand, cuffed the other to the bench. Tried to charm them, so I might get off easy. I tried to be pleasant, and I must have sweet talked them, I didn’t go to jail — but not before they uncuffed me from the bench and led me to the large ink pad. “Now, we’ll move your fingers, don’t try to help,” they’ll say, so you do as they say and they seem quite pleased by taking your prints to add to their permanent government records. Lucky you. you’re a part of the system now. # After a cop drops you off at your place wave to them, be courteous and smile, then close that door and lock yourself in. Now you’re alone, you’re left with your thoughts. It’s a frightening thought, it’s a frightening feeling when you’ve always thought that it won’t happen to you, and getting caught was never an option. You never want to scrub your skin of fingerprint ink (out, out damned spots, out damned evidence that you are now trapped in their damned system). It might seem like a relief when you’re finally uncuffed, but you’re not. You’re a part of their system now, even if, after they’ve taken your prints, they let you out into the world again. Now, how does it feel to be free.

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers’ poetry feature “Rap Sheet” (Cfs) live at the Cafe Cabaret at Cafe Ballou in Chicago 6/19/15, with the poems each of you carry one body each, uncuffed and printed, Entering Courtroom 101, Vent, and only option is fighting.

See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers’ poetry feature “Rap Sheet” (Cps) live at the Cafe Cabaret at Cafe Ballou in Chicago 6/19/15, with the poems each of you carry one body each, uncuffed and printed, Entering Courtroom 101, Vent, and only option is fighting.

Download these poems in the free chapbook “Rap Sheet”, w/ poems performed live 6/19/15 at Cafe Ballou, in the Cafe Cabaret (Chicago)

Download these poems in the free chapbook “Rap Sheet” Expanded Report, with long versions of poems (and a bonus poem) in her “Rap Sheet” show 6/19/15 at Cafe Ballou, in the Cafe Cabaret (Chicago)

uncuffed and printed Janet Kuypers full version, started 4/13/15, finished 4/13/15 When I was arrested they put handcuffs (a little too tight) around my wrists, behind my back. They put me in the back of their squad car, took me to their headquarters, a little building you can only get to through the off ramp of the expressway. They sat me down, uncuffed one hand, cuffed the other to the bench. Tried to charm them, so I might get off easy. They tried to pronounce my last name, so I mentioned astronomy: “Pluto’s no longer a planet, but an icy ball from the Kuiper Belt...” Well, of course they didn’t know astronomy, so I tried to be pleasant, bring up astronomy to entertain the laymen: “Did you know the Moon’s orbit gets one inch farther away from the Earth every year? So if you thought the moon looked bigger when you were little, well, you may have been right.” They liked that. I must have sweet talked them, I didn’t go to jail — but not before they uncuffed me from the bench and led me to the large ink pad. “Now, we’ll move your fingers, don’t try to help,” they’ll say, so you do as they say and they seem quite pleased by taking your prints to add to their permanent government records. Lucky you. you’re a part of the system now. # At the last finger, the cop rolled and smeared, made a mention that something went wrong. “That’s all on you,” you couldn’t help but say, but the cop’s still pleased. “Nah, the print turned out fine,” the balding cop said. What a relief. All I could think that this cop’s defective genes give him the monk look — maybe he’s a cop so he’d have a way to still have a power trip (yeah yeah yeah, that’s my inner voice, I know better, I’d never say it aloud. I’d just think it.) # After a cop drops you off at your place (after waiting to make sure you got in safely with your key, wave to them, be courteous and smile, then turn to go into your place, alone)... After you walk inside, alone, you’re left with your thoughts. It’s a frightening thought, it’s a frightening feeling when you’ve always thought that it won’t happen to you, and getting caught was never an option. You never want to scrub your skin of fingerprint ink (out, out damned spots, out damned evidence that you are now trapped in their damned system). It might seem like a relief when you’re finally uncuffed, but you’re not. You’re a part of their system now, even if, after they’ve taken your prints, they let you out into the world again. Now, how does it feel to be free.

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