These gated communities
calm, empty streets
are not for you.
These fucking punks are all the same
hooded tops, iced tea and Skittles
not a care in the world.
Unarmed. And dangerous.
Dead kids tell no tales
and the suburbs know that
the poor and black and young
are up to no good anyway.
Know your place.
You, and uppity Rosa,
and White House Obama
it’s the back seat of the bus, boy,
in the land of the gun and the free.
© Steve Pottinger. 14 July 2013
Steve Pottinger writes and performs poetry whenever and wherever he can. He has a website at stevepottinger.co.uk and can be found on twitter at @oneangrypoet