Black fella in WA,
drunk and driving and couldn’t pay
the fine that was fine and lesser for
a pressed shirt suit dresser.
Pulled up with half a tinny in his hand,
southern cross his pectoral brand,
cop says “What? You been drinking?”
he says “Nah, I’ve been thinking,”
Call to base, checks out his licence
since the plates don’t match the state he’s in and
his brand doesn’t match the state we’re in.
So, cop goes
“Look mate, you’re drunk and I think
you’ve thunk that this badge gives me a reason
to lead legions and unleash tasers on
and you’re black, and this car’s unregistered
and I need to make two more arrests today
to get my pay from government inc. WA”
Minang man arcs up
– tense fists –
thinks nah, fuck this.
Cops always take the piss and
insist that this land is their
fair land. Fuck right off, cop.
Door pops and pig lands
on Mabo’s red ochre
sand with his pistol disabled
and his radio unable
and his story a fable.
Minang man on his sand looks down
grips the Bowie in his hand
picks up the convict and sticks his tool
in the throat of Cunstable O’Toole.
Pissing blood out his mouth, bacon begs to stop,
Minang man says “Yeah? Say sorry.