poem of the day 03.16.16

the scam artist

looking out my kitchen window

into the vodka night

she passes dressed in a hoodie

clutching a cell phone

clutching herself

sees stupid me in the window

stops and spins

turns doe-eyed and comes closer

she says, since you’re looking

out the window anyway

i was wondering if i could ask you something

shoot, i say

because i still know how to talk to the young

and doe-eyed female

she says, you know 74^th street

and shore drive, right

i nod

intimately, i say

well, she says, you see, my car….

i hold up my hand

and stop her right there

let me guess, i say

your car broke down and you need some money

she shakes her head

huddles into herself on a sixty degree night

for good measure

tilts her head and lifts those eyes

look, i tell her

i’ve heard this scam at least five times

in this neighborhood

it’s always some poor girl

clutching her dead phone at night

huddled into herself in any kind of weather

with a dead car just down the block.

sometimes they cry, i tell her

but have you heard it from me? she asks

silent

we stare at each other as the vodka night

starts to turn sober

i can’t help you, i finally say

she shrugs, gives me the finger

turns doe eyes and spins down the street

like it ain’t no thing

looking for the next idiot

around the next block

some money man who has yet to hear

her pitiful tale of woe

as i step away from the window

close the blinds on this side of humanity

and pour myself

another stiff one.