Roll

The way I roll
I come hard as a dagger
and leave stains behind.
How I love to cut!  How I love
to see the world divide before me!

I roll (I tell myself)
like a doctor on a boil,
a demolition expert clearing eyesores,
a big man being big.

I roll, roll
like the walls of a tornado up ahead.
Or maybe like I’m chasing it, big man,
big daring man, rolling up on the wind.

The way I roll
I leave mud behind me
on third story balconies,
knee-deep blood washing up on the undercarriage
of cars parked on the unfortunate streets
where I roll.

I tell myself,
man, you gotta do this:
roll huge, massive, correct,
large as a plague, all consuming,
trip-wire bomb maker
waiting to snake in
another exploded enemy…
yes,
I roll that way.
I tell myself that,

it’s the only way to keep from throwing myself
under my own wheels.