That night you were "gone."

Defend your terrorist sheets
with a sock of blood.
Smoke 'em out,
Smoke your way to heaven.
You don't want me here,
and so I won't leave.
Leave me here and leave me choked.
Die for many or die for death.
I'll be the latter on the ladder.
Every day, sing a song
a song, a song, a rabbit song
in the trenches of Salvador-
the republic of blood and grits.
Grit your teeth for what you need-
clothes and shoes and forceful weeds.
Intellectual and very brave,
stop and go to miss the wave.