A glance. A beat. A fleeting fear.
You drum your fingers, tug your ear.
Reach into your pocket. Count to ten.
Relax. It’s fine. We’ve all agreed.
Don’t have to sign. Don’t have to read.
Just say that you’ll be good now and again.
A rule. Or two. What difference here?
They ask. You smile. Watch them leer.
Reasons can be reasoned off with sin.
Hold on tight. Your lips will bleed.
Once meant for good, now turned to greed.
Be cool. Don’t fight. We know you’ll never win.
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