Damn That Faust!

Police in Portland, Oregon,
To move along suspicious types,
Successfully have hit upon
A ruse that has thugs yelling yipes
When ears attuned to rap or rock
Hear amplifiers blaring Bach.

At first, I thought, whatever works
To lessen outdoor urban crime.
But then I started seeing quirks,
Statistics that might even climb
If felons understood libretti
Sketching mischief worse than petty.

For instance if some German punk,
While Siegfried’s helpless back is speared,
Decides that passersby who, drunk,
Deserve his switchblade bloody-smeared
Inserted smack between their blades.
So Götterdämmerung in spades!

Or worse if some Italian cur
Who thinks his partner cheats on him
Decides it’s time to strangle her,
But doesn’t do so on a whim.
Otello’s hands around the throat
Of Desdemona, does he note.

Or worst a Frenchman hearing Faust
Who thinks he’s Méphistophélès,
And not before a fire doused,
Has brought the city to its knees.
Inherent nature’s what he blames.
He simply likes all things in flames.