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