Not so much a rush, more a dull
slow wave of indulgence
gradually rises and over-
takes me as I walk by
to recognize
that they—the ones
who eagerly stole away,
faceless and clandestine—they,
the ones who took the time
to practice designing
these stark gang signs
well in advance,
pre-sketched on these
hard packs of Newport cigarettes
which liter the dark and far
corner of the yard
under the familiar lumbering
shadow of their gradeschool—they
are certainly
the takers—of much more
care than they're currently
equipped to realize.
