so full of contidictions
and disconnected thought
I try my best to rise from it
to refuse the fog desperate to conceal
the things we wish we could unsee
knowing the danger in that
we sit rooted to the spot
watching our right to life
dwindle with every trigger pull
if the air was more brume
maybe we wouldn't see the blue line
they cross as they claim victory
legal thug runners holding
starter pistols aimed
not at the sky but at the
invisible visible targets painted
on our chests
our backs
our heads
I remember a time when
officer friendly was more clear
when he showed up in class
for career day taking a bite out
of crime these days he is more
officer questionable
like do I call when I need help
only to be chalk outline after you arrive
I knew a black boy once
who when asked what
he wanted to be when he grew up
stood tall and proud said
officer of the law standing at attention
these days, though he never
thought it would be his career
all he wants to be when he grows up
and the fog lifts
is alive
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