Ed Robson

NOLO CONTENDERE

Your honor, I just want to say, it isn’t right, what’s happening.
We’re getting so PC, I can’t find anyplace to have a smoke,
not even in my car. That’s what this case is really all about.
I’m not a reckless driver; how the officer got that idea,
I don’t know, when everywhere I go, I see folks driving on
the sidewalk, in the ditch, but they don’t see them, no, it’s me they stop
the minute I light up a smoke.

But that and coffee in the morning, what could be more natural?
This one day, I’m just finishing my breakfast on the morning drive,
and punching buttons, trying to play a CD on the stereo.
The car is new, you see, and so I have to ask my wife, “Where’s that
danged owner’s manual?” She goes, “It’s in the glove box, duh.” I’m like,
“Where it belongs? Who knew?” And she texts me right back,
“Well, I did, duh,”
which makes me laugh so hard I almost drop my chopsticks. But the
traffic’s getting heavy on the pike, which always makes me nervous, and
the owners’ guide’s in Japanese. (Can you see why I’d need a smoke?
And it’s my own car, after all.)

But then I notice that I’m running just a wee bit late, so I
start shaving while I listen to the lesson on irregular
verb forms—I guess that’s most of them in Russian—but while scrambling
for exact change so that I won’t have to slow way down to pay my toll,
I slosh my coffee, which if I don’t wipe it all up, Bernadette
will kill me, cause it’s her car, too, and the upholstery’s still pristine,
(well mostly, anyhow), but then I change lanes kinda sudden, cause
my left arm’s caught inside my sleeve, and wind up at the wrong booth,
where, would you believe, the girl just quit? I guess the stress got to her, all that honking, cursing, screeching brakes. So it’s her fault I broke the gate.
But if I put my shirt on first, before I shave, I end up with
my collar full of shaving cream.

So now I’m asking Bernadette, “Do we have band-aids?” And she’s like,
“They’re right there in the console, duh,
and don’t you bleed on my new car."
I say, “It’s these damned Russian verbs, they make my Adam’s apple bob
just when the straight blade’s on my neck.” But by the time I staunch the
bleeding, finish up my kung pao chicken, gulp the last swig of my coffee,
get the knot right on my tie, and—finally!—start to light that smoke,
just as I pull into the lot of Angus Elementary,
all them blue lights in my rear-view get me so freaked out, I choke
and spill bong water in my lap, so when I get inside, all my
first graders think I wet my pants. Now, what’s that gonna do to their
respect for my authority? I realize right then, it’s time
for me to start my new career.

So, dasvidaniya, Judge; you won’t see me again. The agency—
oh yes, you know the one I mean—they’re sending me to Moscow, where
I hear the cops just do their job and keep the crazies off the road,
instead of writing tickets on a good, hardworking citizen
who only wants the right to catch a nice, relaxing, morning buzz
while driving in his OWN DAMNED CAR!


Ed's YouTube reading of "Nolo Contendere"


Ed confesses: ""Nolo Contendere' was inspired by the rising numbers of accidents caused by distracted drivers. Most prominent in the statistics are cell phone users, but we all see people eating, applying makeup, and doing many other activities incompatible with keeping their eyes on the road."

ED ROBSON retired after 30 years practicing psychology so he could write full-time. He earned his MFA from U. of Central Arkansas in 2021, suffered a heart attack in 2023, and got his groove back in 2025 paragliding in Guatemala. Now he spends his time restoring neglected houses with his wife, winning poetry slams, cooking for his friends, singing in his UU Fellowship choir, and writing like his life is on the line. His first poetry collection, Carping Every Diem, will be published in May 2026 by Bramble Press.