"American Dream" (National Poetry Month poem-a-day) Day 19
written by Bruce A.
Pandolfo
4/19/2017
Even in his teen years
Clay felt thieving could be fun.
Bonnie//Clyde, John
Dillinger, perhaps he could be one,
Mentioned to friends
and family he's sure it could be done,
Mom became a victim of
her would-be vigilante son,
No Robin Hood just a
hooded robber,
Clay researched hard in
a search bar
to avoid gumshoes like
cobblers
and an agenda to give
parents agita
A well paid turbine
mechanic,
uncanny that he'd catch
this bug
to be a pest and
hopefully
not candidly caught on
camera.
When he stole from Mom
she noticed him,
but Moms know their
sons and scolded him,
no mask, no gun, no
showboating,
Non-violent, he'd take
notes with him,
walked in nonchalant
wrote on envelopes he'd give
in hopes to keep
tellers at ease
“only hundreds and
fifties please”
Walking out
exhilarated,
The American Dream for
the adrenaline fiend!
Made a couple grand and
fled the scene
with an exceptional
scream!
Feeling couldn't be
beat, each robbery a lottery win,
ended the spree then
ended up confessing to three,
Opting to drop it then
drop in to the law to turn himself in,
Clay's got a kid now
and wants jail time to begin,
Now that he's over it,
just wanting to get it over with
But honestly, solely
three heists is hard to believe!
But press him hard and
he'll just smile
“a lot of people
guessed a lot of things.”
He's not gonna give
anymore...
and he's not going to
take anymore either.
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