By Allen Mavis
She was an ugly ghetto woman;
looked like a guy.
She had her shirt tuged off
for the sweet sting of a few free menthols.
The cops came and tripped her up, face first.
They caught, tackled her on the asphalt.
Her road rashed rumbly jumblies
took her poor mind off the nicotine fit,
and her skull off the hard rap of the trunk lid.