The daughter of the dead police officer was polishing his riding boots.
They were so shining he could use them as mirror which used to do and slapping
her if the boots were shining enough, he needed glasses but refused to wear them.
Now in his coffin knocked by a car she had to put them on his cold feet.
She was feeling sad but also, she was ashamed of her own thoughts, quietly relieved.
Free now to go out and be a lap-dancer, if she so wanted; heaven forbid,
tomorrow she will dress in black and then she would be free of his tyranny.