Status quo for them is
scraping challenges
to their status quo
off the pavement. 

Par for the course
when one of them puts
a hole in one 
who they’ve decided

isn’t a member 
of their club.
Protect and serve?
They serve it to anyone

in their way, something
heavy, something
so heavy it stops
the breathing. The code

of silence roars out
loud and clear: blue line
offering a cloaked invocation
of infallibility.

Accuse them of being themselves
and they’ll slip away like mercury
across courtroom floors;
lay a finger on them if you dare

and die like the rest. Watch
their lights flashing and think
of flame — blue as a torch,
a gas jet. Watch them smile

at the burning: a sport,
a game, a little bit of play
with a storm of win and lose.
Watch them watching us 

and not caring much
about what we might see.