knew ’em when he sold used-cars to old ladies on Sullivan Street…pensions parted with…dead men rolling in graves….
said ta’ left town…figured only so many lives… bank job…get-in…get the money…get-out…real cool like…
he was at a truck-stop a few counties over in this past midnight haze…eatin’ chilli…yackin’ it up with smoky brunette waitresses…pin-up girl wannabe’s…
Gotta deal for ya hon’…., heard Slick say, No money upfront…notta dime down…take one…’bout two…, shuck-n-jive had the broads jumpin’ while red-eyed truckers drank coffee…waitin’ on numbers to be called, Shower 125…Shower 125…you’re up sweety…, soundin’ like Jane Russell…maybe…early morn plays tricks…
an’ i watched…tempting tongue…listened ’till sun come-up…what talk…real skill…
where’d i go wrong…
