Avoiding the Police

God! Why did you ever bring me here? I know starched khaki: how it looks like. Cop’s pistol looks much like woman’s purse But in its chambers not face powder… God! What makes it sweet I should be here? Pin-sharp eyes search me for a cheap strike: Next, a clever charge and self I curse; With the stench in cell room wails louder... God! Next time, help escapes of the sought, The batons cops brandish not a friend; On my head exploded a cracked skull, Not a pleasing sight back with a whack… Not likely my appearance in court, My pocket dry case comes to an end. Right now a noon blessed with a sky dull: Handcuffs I hate for image they hack.