He was no Dillinger, that’s
for sure–
And his rag-tag, teenage crew
wasn’t the best that a
small-town, crime circuit
could offer.
Claudia, his ex, drove
the Mustang thru backwoods
capillaries while Ponch
& cronies shot various
dog-tranquilizers & euthanasia
syrup into their legs.
Claudia had to testify
against ‘im later on.
She didn’t snitch; however,
the time before when
Ponch & a different brood
busted into an amusement park
or on the third attempt
when he had skipped the
final cliff-notes pages
on building a meth-lab.
She wasn’t a canary in
this example cause the
mock-monster lab blew-up
w/a dozen raised-eyebrowed
firemen standing side-line.
I was dating Claudia once
between Ponch’s tours
in prison.
And once she was speeding
thru main drags to the vet’s
while I held & massaged the chest
of a tiny kitten her daughter, who
was hollering feral-Comanche
in the back-seat, accidentally
drowned.
The small heartbeats in my hands
like a dying alarm-clock.