Mule.
I sit in a beaten up old car.
An old scar lingers in the cold dark-
Depths of my simple mind.
A scar left by my journey into crime.
Three other girls are here,
&, for them, the border sparks fear,
Looking into the dark leer-
Of a border officer that we stop near
4 young Mexican ladies-
At the border? That cop’s not crazy,
So he brings the hound-
To sniff the car. He pats us all down.
We all got through clean.
& It’s a new scene, that few’ve seen.
Few people.. of our kind,
& the southwest US blows our minds.
This is my 7th time here.
The others are new to this crime steer.
Yet, I’m a 16 y/o vet, see,
The authorities will never catch me.
But it eats away at me:
Submitting my body for cash glee.
Colder than I used to be,
But I do what I have to do, to flea.
See?.. I must do this,
Til I can take my family from there
How I get through is-
To think of my families glum care
Just as I’m reflecting,
The old car stops at a gas station,
Followed by ejection-
Of us ladies, on this small vacation.
We enter the bathroom.
I see if it’s empty and scan sounds.
Then I started to croon,
Enter the stall & pull my pants down.
The awful stink is stale.
Besides us, the bathroom’s empty.
I take one deep inhale,
Then pull all the cocain from in me.
Sorry the intro aint proper
After I get paid, you see life’s so cruel.
Only Two Hundred dollars...
Welcome to the dark life of a coke mule.