The Right To Be a Nigger

Then the police came
to get the drunken raving black man
with the gun

who was all cowboy 'd up pretty loud,
back from the desert
with a wicked good drunk on and all
to go with being blown up
more times then remembering allows
and them two medals they gave
to hold the wounds closed.

Beats two years of community college
and the law enforcement academy
plus a pistol most use
only to kill wounded dear
out on the highway
every few months,
he figured.

But they knew different,
how this dumb nigger
just doesn't have no right
going and shooting
that thing in the air
especially in this neighborhood,
lying about them purple hearts
like they always do,
and the babymomma thing
he'll be crying about in a few minutes,
when they find the crack pipe
in the sock like always,

though if he doesn't put the gun down
right fucking now
which is how it goes
when it goes
at all,

they won't
miss the chance
to finally do something
about these people.

That desert's
a long ways
away

and no damn good excuse either
for forgetting
what he's fighting for,

here where the neighborhood
hangs
by their cars
and gleefully trash talks
its way
till way after midnight.