the drifters

that flit about
the skits of the
suburbs
always get me
on an alert
that the
worst of the city
bums could never do.

the suburbanite
drunks dirty with
cardboard sign
or hitchhike thumb
on interstate roadway
always have that look
that they didn't quite
get all the blood out
of the carpet and there
might be some specs of red
on their shirt sleeves.

the narrowed eyes,
smiling mouths,
the stench of oppression
blinding your reproach,
and they amble as though
the gun could be exposed
at any moment as the switch blade
accidentally tumbles out of
their back pocket.

when you look back to see
if the rag tag man
fetched his knife off the
ground,
there is a massive fire
blazing where he used to stand
as the blaring sound of sirens
start instantly
and you notice
that the man begins
appearing in your rear view mirror
flipping you off with a huge
grin in his eyes
as the mysterious knife
lies in your front
seat
and you are suddenly not sure
if you should drive
any further
down the creepy road
of suburbia.