Tazer’s paperwork.I pull it out, don’t do nothing, paperwork.I fire it, more.I hit the sumbitch, reams. Court dates. My ass in jail. If he has a heart condition, well—and if he dies—don’t use no Tazer.Mace the same. Hydraulic needle pierces that cornea,permanent problems.Potential for positional asphyxiation.Adds up to a welfare shitshow,and me on the wrong side of five to ten.Baton’s the shit.Hit a leg just hard enough.Don’t break it.Put him down. Slow him. Hobble him.Have a chuckle.Wait for police while you show your smile.
The convenience store-cum-Laundromat on
6th and Cormorant was just not the right place
for a five-finger discount. The attendant was the size
of a refrigerated truck and moved a good deal quicker.
I’d just witnessed him running down a thief, tackling him,
tumbling end over end like comical hoop snakes intertwined.
I kept looking at the recoveries in his hands.
Of all the things to steal.
A Mountain Dew.
And the thief well over fifty.
Guess he had a real sweet tooth.