My Stench

There's no margin of error
for these pigs.

They are ruthless.

They are precise.

They can sniff out,
miles away,
the slightest criminal activity
with their huge snouts.

And they are
everywhere
and bored
and even worse,
they have guns
with itchy hooves.

They almost caught
my mom
once.

She claims
she doesn't remember.

The lights, the uniforms, the badges,
the pointy ears,
on the other hand,
come clear
to my mind.

Yes,
She had been drinking,

Yes,
her children were in the car.

Yes,
she probably swerved
a bit.

The pigs sniffed her out
as soon as she hit the road.

They were ready,
to take her away,
to take us away.

Just out of boredom.

One of them,
might have had
a heart
underneath all his pig fat
because
he let her
go.

It must have been
because
she had my baby sister
in her hands.

They oinked away
with their curly tails
tucked between
their tight asses.

We, somehow, made our escape.

I
should have learned
from this.

I didn't.

The pigs
sniffed me out
too.

They were not so nice.

I didn't have a baby
in my hands.

I had the stench of sin.

They took me away.

They oinked at me,
stripped me naked,
and looked in
my asshole
for food
or "contraband."

They kept me
a prisoner
in their pen.

I should have
never trusted them.

I should have ran.

I should have
stayed
unscented.

It's too bad,
I guess,
I only know how
to stink.