Complains on Compliance

How does one comply?
Come, Cop
touch me every where.
Instill and install your will all over me.
Sure.
Let's do it.
Tangible epithets, doing a drunken, anxious dance on their tongues.
A sigil, no, two, are manacled onto my hands.
Saying no to police-style intimacy does not fly.
Some of us assume positions. Some of us do the dirty talking.
Some thing about "Johannesburg..."
So we drive.
I am told, by a Rain God named Narain that ways like mine cannot be had
I cannot have my way
They have laws to deal with deviants like I.
I assume majority of silence.
Deniability of allegiances to Rasta, I am guilty of
In the pleasure of the office...charged
into a charge office
there I could not say, I am anything more than dread.

So no compliances gets me charged
But not the way I like
It could have been a joyful time
Like a hike with a couple of dykes.
Instead my nether tenders are being fondled by
a man I did not let into my day.
How does one barge into bodies, spaces...?
The Rain
God moves the two sigils: Johanessburg Arms Group
from my rear to my front.
"Clothe your self (in handcuffs)"
So I did. Silently
Funny how an hour can be such a drag.
Especially when
a self proclaimed Rain God tells you
about obediance
and compliance
and how good for you it is
to be pliable, malleable.
Let them touch you in public
Just for kicks
and if you don't,
they'll kick you
for kicks
"Sipho Dlamini" had a bad day.
And another man had it worse...