“It probably started in poetry; almost everything does.” – Raymond Chandler
Think I just got profiled.
Pulled out of the Brothers Barber Shop
where I get my fade from Dannie and Ishmael.
About the only place I feel comfortable hereabouts.
Don’t get me started.
A copper races right up behind me.
Driving a blue & white.
Siren. Lights.
Hate that when it happens.
Feelin’ fly
or at least not yet quite seventy.
Tapping the padded heated leather steering wheel
of my quadruple black 300s rolling on twenties.
The cartel and Shaft wish they had a car like mine.
Okay, maybe not them, but I feel blessed.
There were miles of trials –
I didn’t always have a car.
Listening to Wiz Khalifa.
Always had tunes.
Dog feels me.
And the cop goes around.