night time a fellow on a bicycle an old one speed with the swept handlebars rides across tracks as these beat up mustangs full of no good troublemakers speeding mow him down, tires to rail the cars stop an undercover materializes fires rapidly all kinds of guns waving in the air so close to my face one man out of bullets burns my arm with the barrel the gang war is now a friendly joke a staged happening congratulations, we did good but i am not amused i push him to the gravel i punch the shit out of him explaining how my arm hurts i look right into his blue eyes it is light again