by Karen Talley

Your only crime
Was carrying a walkman,
Listening to rap,
Wearing a pair of baggy jeans,
The latest hundred dollar sneakers,
A designer shirt,
And your baseball cap.
You moved through the crowd,
Bobbing your head,
And the next thing you knew,
A little old lady
Was shaking her frail white finger
In your direction.
Then you were jacked up against a wall-
Never mind it almost broke your nose-
And when they were done,
All they'd found was five dollars,
A bus pass,
And some batteries.

Accused by Karen Talley

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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