Wednesday, March 16, 2016

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 74th 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

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.


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