out of county

some people call

& I feel the knife closing in

the blood already bitter

sliding on my teeth

greasy roiling anger held back


by the fear that I might damage them

as much they would like

to damage me

but we will speak

tongues tightly held

information exchanged

as I watch their feet shapes

flexing of ready hands

color rising in the cheeks

where the eyes probe

for easy meat

& feel the relief

when they are finally gone

but don’t think I settle

just yet

I await the patter of running

missiles thrown

until they have really gone

not just down the street

out of county

& I’d prefer another country


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