THE BOYS

boys own this town, as they gather here, use their measured steps
meet at the corner, they own it--hot shots-looking around, ready to
keep their circle tight- tip top-from the looks; up to no good-

in the middle of the day, on a hot summer afternoon
with the agitation level at fever pitch, u don't breathe
for no matter, you can feel it, air, thick, like gun metal grease
the passersby, keep their heads down, walk on, click clack, run

if someone does decide to make a play- will they be prepared?
may be,or not -  give them a reason, just because, it will be quick-
watch- one itchy -trigger fingers it, lovingly-stock still, say the word
- the boys are ferocious- ready, prowling up, down, on the make

eyes are watching, up in their blood adrenalin pumped- fear them
zip zap, narcissistic concrete kings- looking for a fight don't even think
if you do blink- ****** on a zigzag -paranoid-deer in the headlights look
mindful, of the silence; ready set,punt- like a deadly-riff raff; game play

if anyone wants to try- u face an arsenal, of full armed-boys, trigger happy
you have been warned, runners will take on all comers; never the boys fault
they stake claim, come fully stacked-racked- making streets on this side of town

- so if you dare- be a pop, pop, bang- bang-hotshot, u be flippant stare down
the barrel of a gun-piece of cold metal steel, hot tempered, say your prayers- quick-
for if you -  made that fatal mistake-no u-turn, when you go cross their piece of turf

by Michael Perry