packed and ready
for that job in Chicago—
I lock and load

she’s swell, but I know
she would turn me in
for a nickel

my lawyer visits
me in prison, but that’s not
why I hired him

her name is Sugar—
she’s sweet, but one can never
trust a pit bull

if he loved
the smell of gunpowder,
he died happy

she likes her
eggs over easy, her men
hard boiled

waiting all day
in this alley for the sun
to go down

I could smell her
cheap perfume even in this
toilet of a place

in a pinch, my Ma’s
the only dame I’d trust,
but not for long

my last ten spot
I bet on What The Hell ...
what the hell

the lipstick stains
on some cigarette butts—
all that’s left of her

for what I know now
I wouldn’t have done it,
but it’s too late

coldly
surveying
some new targets—
time to lift a wallet,
or two

hitching ...
I prepare
as the mark stops—
doesn’t anyone read the
papers?

heavy
cellar door
slams behind me—
what I don’t do for a
body