The police can have
Their balaclavas and
Their rubber bullets and
Their armor.
No armor,
not for me,
please.
How could I feel your speed bump ribs,
and your hand on my arm?
The people can keep
Their signs and
Their slogans and
Their demands.
My only demand is that this kiss last a little longer
All good things should last just a little bit longer.
Because I know the truth
can’t be shouted through a bullhorn.
Nor printed
in block letters
on oaktag.
The truth is in your neck:
The whispered crease where it meets your jaw.
We’ll lay low there ’til this blows over.
I think they are trying to set an example here.
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f2/a4/16/f2a416f510977de2e149b3746046bde2.jpg