Policed to meet you




I’ve had all the derogatory sobriquets slung at me.

But I keep walking the beat.

And I keep running into some of the worst society has to offer.

“Hey. Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

“Yeah, you. This area is for authorized personnel only. I can’t have you just hanging around. Sorry, but you’ll need to move on.”

“Wait. Who’s that over there? You’re just not gonna make this easy are you?”

I never wanted to be a detective. I never wanted to be a chief.

I just wanted respect.

I am Cone Alone.

Meter made

I had not seen these guys in years. I remember the first time I heard Look-Ka Py Py. I never had an interest in playing bass guitar until then. As soon as I heard them, all the licks stood out to me like a shamrock in a field of roses.

That was then.

I haven’t picked up a bass guitar in, well, longer than I can remember. When I heard they were playing again, I just had to go see them.

As I stood in the crowd, I looked around. Surrounding me were cones clearly into the music, into the sound and grooving to the funk. Me? I was in a funk of my own. How could I have come so far from my love of music? Why was I working 50 hours a week at an unfulfilling job?

I wish the slap of the bass would slap me awake.

I am Cone Alone.