Predebate, poetry, Prepoetry, pretry, try again, tryin

I am standing on the pavement next to a set of traffic lights which have now turned to read.
If I turn to my right I am, now faced with ahand.
A painted hand on a board.
The board is, if I am fivefoot, the board is perhaps sevenfoot.
The hand is holding a gun.
The gun is as tall as me. (I)
I can see the top of the gun.
It is being held by a figure.
Who's body I can see.
'Busts' I think they are called
I can see a bust of a figure.
With no hair, but yet,
the board disects his face.
It is a man.
He is smoking an illegal cigarette let's say
And he is wearing blue tinted sunglasses.
He doesn't look happy to see me.
But yet, if he were lifesize he would probably be alot bigger than me.
His image so close to me is a curious-thing.
His aggression is a curious-thing.
The effort to paint such smoke,
The effort to paint such pattern if you like
Is done with the same aggression.
This is his patch.
This is his territory.
His territory sits opposite the New England Quarter
Whereby members of the public,
Members of the community let's say,
Are faced with his face on a daily basis.
Do they have weapons and narcotics to compete?
With his territory? Perhaps they don't.
What are the answers?
What can we do?
When a blight on the landscape,
One the cityscape is so-
Visual, so literal,
How does one act?
Re-act?
Is it not a form of Digital Realism?
Is it not Grand Theft Auto made visable?
Made Large.
Made incomprehensible.
Made violent.
Made aggressive?
Saying
"Whad tha f*ck do you want?"