The System Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Blue regal, with the blood stains splattered across the gray cotton seat.
Jumbo buttons at the seams.
Divided by the center console.
The seasons change, peaking through dark tent.
Sun gleaming off coker classic daytons.
Slow creeping to a complete stop.
Police sirens flare. Indistinct sounds across the cb radio.
Empty shell casings drop to the ground.
Bursting through the driver side window.
Not an attempt of resistance.
Not a blemish on his record.
Just another number passed by legislation in a stack of papers
That'll be remembered sometime ten years from now