it hung around
the air
with wet hair and sweat it
told us we were
not in the guts
of a policed jungle it
soon ain’t gon be no mo’ bullets in the gun it
didn’t vote it
knew what a muthaphuka
on the porch
in a suit meant for them it
wouldn’t pull up its pants it
studied it
danced it
thought it
lost it
and won it
and spoke it
ran and
bled it
ran and it
is almost time
for these hungry muthaphukas
to eat