The Current Panic

Gaping, smiling holes slashed thoughtfully
Into gleaming black tires,
Sent the whole building into an uproar.
I remained calm as my royal purple Camero was spared,
But I was stilled mystified at our new bit of noir.

Now the police roam our yellow faded lined parking lot
examining all of the residents, all of the suspects,
For any hint of guilt or sign of lingering suspicion.
When I lurk past, free from any bad intentions,
Their eyes pierce me and my shoulders raise,
Clinging to my neck, because police make me uncomfortable.
The feeling of safety is welcome,
But at what price must the bounty be laid upon or building's table?

The police. Their shaved heads and bright badges
Clash with their authority, and their dark uniforms
Must match their deep rooted questions and sideways glances;
They give no first, let alone second chances.