Unintentionally

Have I broken the law?
Intentionally?
Unintentionally?
First: Whose laws?
I mean,
sure,
I like to think
I’m a model citizen:
holding doors,
picking up trash,
smiling at neighbors;
it’s my civic duty.

But I might have committed
a sneaky sin
or two.
Unintentionally.

Unintentionally.

Without intent.
Without even realizing it.
Without malice of thought.

The thought weighs heavy.
Way heavy.
Like a shopping cart
I swore I returned.

Did I run a red light?
Did my careless whispers
defame or slander?
(If so, I hope it was a good story.)
Did I fail to report
that $10 lottery win?
Did I cheat the IRS
or just round in my favor?
Did I swipe everything
at the self-checkout,
or just pretend
I couldn’t find the barcode?
Did my latest online barb
violate copyright laws?
Or just good taste?

Did I break the law?
Did I?
Unintentionally?
I might have.
Probably.

But only if you’re asking.

Have You Ever Broken the Law?

This piece grew from a simple prompt: Have you ever broken the law? A yes or no answer wasn’t enough. My words rambled, stretching out like a loose thread. One thought led to another. Little moments bubbled up; things done without a second thought. It became a wandering confession. A bit playful, and a bit guilty.

This kind of writing, by the way, is called freewriting. It’s a method where you let your thoughts spill out without judgment. According to Peter Elbow’s Writing Without Teachers, rambling on the page helps ideas surface. You discover things you didn’t know you knew. Natalie Goldberg agrees. In her book Writing Down the Bones, she says writing freely helps you get past self-doubt. It helps you get real.

This poem is exactly that. A free ramble through small infractions. Maybe even the ones you’d rather not admit. But the words just kept coming. And that’s the beauty of it.

So, have you ever broken the law? Maybe. Maybe not. But you’ve probably wondered.