I have no gun but I can spit

Some twelve inches below my lips
The Human of my Person lives.
It melts for strangers with meaningless smile.
And indifferent to most other kind.
Beware, O Stranger! Rudely crossing it.
I have no gun, but I can spit.

(Inspired by a poem "I have not gun but I can spit" by W H Auden).

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