Wound tight locked suburban enclaves
mini nation states security guarded
gatekeepers feed insular sensibilities
barriers against anarchy dogs
barking up the moon one lonely
crab backing up the walk really
just some dead leaves a footstep
from dust an edgy wind stirs up
streetlight cones cut by skater
punks slumming in safety staying
stoned, whispering the mantra,
"Hunker down here, stay."
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