Generic

They threatended us. 
Death spat in my face, 
my lover at my side 
crying and begging 
for another chance 
funny how I can remember 
the smell of rotting vegetables 
in the dank of midnight steam, 
cats fighting, 
maybe trying not to become 
steak on the menu 
guns in my face 
yelling DEATH TO FAGS, 
not as terrible 
as the scuff on my shoe, 
embracing Death, 
and asking to be carried away 
even the gunshot 
did not distract me 
from focusing on a cockroach 
busy nibbling on rotting cabbage, 
and as They ran off 
I sank into sadness 
as his blood touched me 
and left me alive

Chinatown Back Alley