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Tagger
Sonny was a freelance beater
He had a microscopic fuse
A player in the mean street theatre
Hot copy for the grit town news
Coming up as an east side bragger
He was more than a little bit tense
A skinny-assed warehouse tagger
Pissin’ through a chain link fence
A few things ‘he be needin’ yet’
A few things he just took
A few boys he’d leave bleedin’ wet
If they took a second look
Skewered by ten silver rings
He’s swearing at the back of the bus
Spark plug swinging on shoelace string
Getting ready for a chump change bust
In a black heat crimson fever
Where the red-eyed city starts
Sonny cranked back the lever
To let a bullet train through his heart
Coyote dog runs barking scared
With bony spine and spiky hair
Taunting traffic four lanes paired
On guard rail steel on asphalt bare
[2004]
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The
Poetry of Daniel Harrison