DON SAY PEEP, for Chris Schaefer

This mother minivanning
on Edgecombe n fivefive
rapping wif her lilman
about ducking jabs and jukes
saying just loud enough
I will fuck up a nine year old

Or the guy waiting to be buzzed
in and axes me if I wanna buy some oil
for my house, or if I have a corra?

La grande Mamalota with donkeybunz
who boxes some dude's backpack because
it's in my face, mister, your bookbag
keeps going all up in my face

Or the dude called out for not being blind
at all by another guy that says he lives
in the projects with the fake blindman
and his name is something like Lester
something that shuns utterance
and wears onyx knock-off espejuelos
playing the public knee-jerk
rattling his cup-o-change.

I swear and just now Charles
Awanda tried to sell me some insurance
after Friday nite futbol and felt it was appropriate
to throw his weight over my shoulder and drag
me into his inner auditorium and is surprised
when I tell him I don;t know who my provider is

I don believe in the Industry of Medicine.

(Furthermore, for a straight week I had ringing
in my left ear: a hollow of grillos, and the HR
saboteur told me I'm not eligible until June
but that I can flex my COBRA.)