Whitey jumps a fence.

Landing in the yard.

Notice of surroundings a blur

Focused on the goal

Up the hill he creeps

Becoming one with the bugs and worms.

A dog barks from afar.

What was that

Who is there

An image in the distance,

Seems locked in a stare

Whitey holds his ground

The image fades

Turns and walks away

The crawling commences again.

A row of shrubs adorn the dwelling

Pear, peach and apple trees

Grown past the ceiling

Cover is not a scarcity.

Like a cougar on its prey

The white man slides into play

Fingers and toes are all that touch the surface.

Up the wall his eyes reach the window sill

Peering into the home

Where his prey is all alone

Sitting by a fire accompanied by only the TV

Oblivious to the goings on outside.

Whitey has come again!

The bell for the door rings

To its answer the prey does streak

Open, hello; closed, goodbye

The white man is inside.

Back to the fire

The prey runs with desire

And lays the white man on a tray

Cut into rows

Not unlike Hitler’s dominoes

The prey has been caught

By the predator called cocaine.