The wind makes warriors
Skirts and overly washed hair
Become immune
To dirt and debris
What is sensible
In communities of people
Trying to escape
The prison of their mind
By becoming one
With the prison around them
Everything waterproofed
In some precarious way
To catch a drift of truth
Will take you down
We are like dogs who;
Obey and follow command
To receive
A little bone
A treat
Cash for cars
Unwinding in bars
Reciting old memories
or,
Who nip the master
Enough to draw blood
And get beat
Thrown to the street
Digging in garbage cans for real peace