It feels like a bad
1970s TV cop show
– or porno movie,
we get to love it all
from the outside,
trying to determine
who the good guys (and gals)
are from the bad,
or maybe we’re all
bad,
only in varying degrees,
each of us having
sold some portion
of our own souls,
hoping in the end
we will get away with it,
some of us like our
poet –
taking on roles more
seriously than others,
desperate to prove
something to somebody,
by far most proving
to ourselves we are worthy,
good guy or bad,
needing to have a place
fate has stuck us into,
this society of
beggars, tramps and
thieves
where having a conscience like hers
only wakes us up
early each morning in a panic,
wondering if we let
it slip
and if we did who saw it
and will be lose
our street creds if
they have.
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