google Fritzgard

what’s the chance
that a bunch of punks will
                        go
to the old parking lot near the
bijou, collecting rocks

to force down the throat of a local governor
wailing about yavva

They might’ve read the
sign that rusted a decade
ago, with thumps from rocks
for generations:

it says no overnight parking and no
weapons or alcohol

it’s dark and it’s night and
they’re walking and they wear
bandannas and read Fritzgard like its a
bible. They pause when

a car with lights shining goes by, and then read
another chapter

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