Street Fightin' Men Poem by Richard Weissman

Tailor-made and polished clean for another day of war,
Briefed hand-to-hand in mercenary finance - deadly to the core,
Uptown streets they're sweet as chocolate, though black as boardroom boards,
Downtown pits they're hoarse and raw, from straining vocal cords.

Either way they'd sell their souls if the bid was dear,
Even at the cost of lives, they've got to eat I fear,
Either way they'd sell sweet mother, if the bid was right,
And she'd be proud of her heartless son, after all he's bright.

From "Voices of the Dark" (1991)