The people of my tribe are cigarettes and Nike balaclavas.
Known for their cigarettes and Nike balaclavas,
They bring cigarettes and Nike balaclavas wherever they go.
At sunrise they smoke cigarettes and wear Nike balaclavas
On their way to work or school or Asda or nowhere.

At sunset they smoke cigarettes and wear Nike balaclavas
On the bus ride home or on the night bus to the club.
They listen to Cigarettes After Sex & Fivio Foreign

And wear cigarette clothes and Nike balaclavas.
They always talk about cigarettes and speak Nike balaclava.
And never let non-tribespeople call them slurs
They hide behind the armour of cigarettes and Nike balaclavas.
The people of my tribe eat mangos and hot wings
and are happiest when they can exist beyond erasure,
beyond ridicule, beyond violent suffering.
I am a reflection of their pastpresentfuture and forever.
For my tribe I wish for peace in their hearts and minds.

They are always turned into headline statistics and urban martyrs.
They are more than just cigarettes and Nike balaclavas
to the people who scowl at them on the street,
but those people are too frightened to look beyond
the surface of their assumptions
in case they feel a spark of similarity with my tribe.

*
From Magma 89, Performance

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