When a cop stopped and frisked me

Understanding

Puzzle pieces in an unassembled heap

Flipped and grouped to form a boarder neat 

The frame, the start of one’s belief

A collection of unknown shapes defined provides relief

How everything is connected, our purpose is to try and fail

Colors, patterns, and answers write our life’s tale

As more is known than not, and our work is near completion 

Once our purpose ends, we face deletion.

Dime the Hooper made bail

Dime the hooper just made bail
Hours with no food or representation, weeks in jail
Arrested for no reason other than being in the wrong place
Trying to stay positive, despite bruises to his ego and face
When they dragged him across the asphalt, his flesh ripped and bled
Knees in his back and kicks to the ribs, Dime didn't hear what they said
Slurs, curses, and maybe Miranda rights?
Sitting in a cell with dull florescent lights
Dime wondered, why him again?
He was just shooting hoops in the park with his friend.
A few days of missed work and bruises on his face
Explainations, lawyer fees, stares, whispers, disgrace
As the church prays for him, his family offers hugs and support
But he found himself alone in both jail and court
The bail bondsman grined when accepted his fee
Bail debt and a criminal record feels like a noose slung from a tree.