You have eyes like the law

Sit down, little lad
“The law, always mangled, smells change”
The boy sat up straight
“You have good posture, unlike the law”
“Look at how the eyes bend to see everything”
“Embraces of every nature, or how you brush your teeth”
“Just anything you could imagine”

The boy squirmed
“See? So does the law”
“Poor posture from not staying in place”
“Oh look, a magazine”
“Oh look, a cigarette lighter”
“Oh look, grandpa’s $5”
“Anything that glitters”

Then the boy slumped
His posture broken for the moment
Or for several
Sirens came from another age
Men in white put the boy in a faceless vehicle

“See, the law does this too”
“Slumping over, playing dead”
“But your posture was never perfect”
“What of the defibrillator, then?
“You’ll become something else”
“Will it be good? Bad?”
“Or maybe just mercurial”
“You were always that, anyway”

The boy stirred in his bed
Struggling out of a fever dream
Unsure of what had happened
His elderly caregiver was struggling too
In the hands of lawmen

The man seemed to radiate toxicity
Burning the hands of his abusers
The boy fell into his fever again
Hoping for the best

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