Chicano Poet

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Survival Of The Fittest

I hear sirens as the SWAT Team
is called to the school
to swat at Emily.

Where’s that Cosa Nostra-infested Guiliani
when you really need him?
After eight hours of negotiations

Emily releases the children.
She’s holed up in the library
with the teachers,

she jams each and every one of her poems
to their throats.
The Chief of Police has fleas

and the trigger-happy snipers
eat their boogers.
They’ve never outgrown that nasty habit.

The Chief tells Emily over the loudspeaker,
“I’m a macho man
and you’re a sniveling poetess.

Come out with your hands in the air
or we’re coming in shooting!” Emily yells
out a window, “Come and get me, copper!”

This pisses of The Three Little Pigs.
Oh, the lives of poets---
some jump off bridges,

some jump off ships,
some put their heads in the oven
and the unlucky ones survive.


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