Monday, May 3, 2010

Hombre

A friend called, 2 a.m.
Hadn't heard from him in years
Said he just got out of prison
Nothing to do, he cried
Teary eyed we walked to a bar before close
The One Lucky
Two sabre-tooth cops stopped him with gargantuan flat feet
Stepped on his toes
Frisked him like eager beavers in the night
Then planted drugs on his person,
Kinda glad
In a hurry he was one bad hombre

1 comment:

Old Ollie said...

A prison chaplain, I knew ,told me a story like this: the newly released cons would lob a brick through a window, and wait for the cops to take them home...they had nothing to do.