There were several of them,
all hungry for control and contraband,
without apology or shame.
The duo was public, sepia, murderous.
Their heritage shown through their voices
and their tailored clothes mislead.
The warrior was proud, metallic, wondering.
His voice carried all the gunpowder needed
to raise an army around him.
The sleekly silhouetted shark sat
following the medley of outsiders,
keeping the beat and fending off trouble.
La chola spiced and shouted and spun,
her winged eyes and teased hair off-set
her razor-blade soul and candid tongue.
The Russian, rambunctious and unprompted,
set the standard for rough talk and large stature,
simply dressed and undone.
The Miami millionaire lounged in beach-gleamed
gold, counting riches between countries
and absorbing his product with his customers.
The bandit from the West kept mystery with her.
Eyes of kohl behind a darkened mask
kept her suitors at bay and her enemies afraid.
There were several of them,
all branded by each other and themselves,
joined together by discord and communality.
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