Crowd Control

poetry

Running afoul of
the law of
the jungle
with a gun tucked in a belt
with a hair trigger
with a sputter and a cough

they will beat you
to death
with clubs and fists
just to teach a lesson

they will set you on fire
but for the gun and
they will tear you to shreds
but for the hair trigger

but the belt
is tight in the humid
and the sun
and it is too tight
when you draw

and the legeslators
of the jungle
call out their laws
and the cops
have come for you

and the clubs
are coming down
now

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