When two people meet here,
They are surrounded—
                                   —less principled evocations,
We circled the compound,
daring each other to go in.
“From flags to fences,
it is both a tribute to his cultural heritage,
and for breeding a fighting instinct in these beasts.”
Soapbox and 2-Liver squatting on the tombs,
“there are many beautiful faces in the polis,
but only one will I brush on my van.”
You assumed the proportions of Justice: eyes
closed, dangling soda bottles from a string
      (little tornados roaring in each one).
Then it was like a fog came over the city,
“We’re no longer part of the things we tagged…”
And I have seen your silhouette appear
as chrome on mudflaps leaving the Swampway.
“I will avoid People, Places that make me forget…”