Chained Men by Jon Bennett

I was walking back from a bad deal.
A gimpy old man using a walker
switched aspirins for my Percocets.
 
I was bummed,
but my getting ripped off was a long time coming.
That was on Leavenworth and Eddy.
 
I ate my last Vicodin
and started moving toward Frank's Bar on Turk and Taylor.
The new Tenderloin Police Station is along the way.
 
As I was walking past
a lady cop was herding three guys into a paddy wagon.
They were chained together.
 
One was Hispanic, one was black and one was white.
They reminded me of those cheap lollipops
that come strung together in cellophane.
 
I wondered what they did to get caught.
And why wasn't I ever caught?
God knows I should have been.
 
I kept going down Turk,
toward Frank's Bar, thinking,

justice is blind.

Author bio: 

Jon Bennett is a writer and musician living in San Francisco. His work has appeared in Dead Snakes, Rattle, Rumble, and a number of other journals. He has recently finished his first novel, "The Unfat," a speculative science fiction story about autism.