Jungle Rules

Inside the No. 52.

Long Beach Transit. Blue limo gold.

A woman choked.

“Your momma,” she said, before the man lunged forward.

His hands on her neck.

Spittle everywhere. White hands gripped the rail.

Red faced with a bus-full of diverted eyes.

No one. Nobody cared.

In the ‘hood, you are on your own.

Attack and be attacked.

“Jungle rules, ya know?”

The hands are now gripped around my neck.

“Best make sure to fight back, cuh.”

Out of towners. Knives on Metro.

The L.A. lesson. The Chicago-boy king.

Attack and be attacked.

He thought he was the shit.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.