​Junkyard dogs are mean.
Mr. Jones says he puts
tobacco in their food,
to mess with their stomach.
Mr. Jones is rude.
Says, people steal his junk
and think that it’s okay.
His dogs caught Bobby
getting parts for his bike,
Bobby still limps today.
I’d hang out on the corner
smoking reefer, thinking I was cool.
Mr. Jones would shake his head
say, “Boy, you better get your
black ass to school.”
Mr. Jones pays cents on the dollar
when you bring him something.
Charges a whole lot more
for that same shit, later.
Nobody likes him
in the neighborhood.
He says we’re all just haters.
Says he’s a capitalist,
but he smiles when his dogs bark.
I think Mr. Jones is a sadist.
He sits in his office waiting for
someone to hop his fence.
I see him with the blinds open
smiling after dark.
M. Zane McClellan
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