8.M. CRACKHEADS
It’s a quarter to 8
at the school’s assigned bus stop
in a gang related neighborhood
infested with
the brilliance of scums.
At the center of this magical universe
are the next generation of brilliance
who will succumb to innocence lost
eventually-
And while I’m trying to ingest the inevitable
I find that I’m having a hard time
grasping the concept of black socks
in today’s kids, yet
I don’t have a problem
grasping the concept of crackheads
always sticking their heads, peering
through the cracks of ex-boarded up
crack houses
Pointing, I turn to my stupid better half:
“You see, that’s why they’re called crackheads!”
screw coffee
I’m in desperate need of a diet cherry coke
10 PM ROLL
Around town, they rolled
in a big black SUV
pimped out in 26” Wheels
and a Glock, cocked loaded on the dash
at 10 she riled in her seat
riding shotgun in his ride
her beautiful world
spinning in her head
uniforms, innocence, girl scouts
homework undone for goodtime fun
she glanced at her watch
animated frogs blowing bubbles
jacking people for drugs and cash
it was his hundredth time, she knew
a hundred and one, bubbles blew,
3 minutes passed at 15 minutes till bed
9 with a Glock 9 now resting beneath her Barbie pillow;
a book report is due tomorrow