Last night, in Kenosha
3 men sat in the corner, in Charlie’s bar
One white, one black and the third,
Concealing in part his face, red and blue
With a new grown beard
Blighted by cold, violently shivering
When he first entered the bar, into the sudden warming
Clearly a hobo,
That I could see


Behind the counter, too far to hear,
With the concealed mic, every word was near
Said a hard voice, ‘You want the job?’
‘Yes, yes’; said weak & weary
Then a third, a voice soft but strong,
‘Here, take this’,
And I saw on the curved mirror
A large black hand with a fawn coat,
giving
‘For me?’
‘Keep it;
there’s more where it came from; and that’s where you come in’

‘4000 bucks’, says Hobo, hesitating to put it on
‘Huh’, surprised voices; followed by Hard
‘How do you know?’
An uncomfortable moment, then Hobo’s hand digs in
From the side pocket, he out’s a tag,
And hands over to someone, I couldn’t see

The now familiar hard voice,
Read, ‘Raymond’s Jacket, Price $4,444,
10% discount’, and with a raising voice adds,
‘4,000 bucks!’
Strong soft says, ‘Yo my Bro,
Get you’re A$$ tomorrow to 12th street’
A protest you will see, from 6 pm up’
‘Okay’, says Hobo; ‘what do I do?

‘At 6:10 the dumpster, will light up in fire’
The signal, our cover
To open up the store
And yo Bro, you have the eye
Pick up good tux, for maxim bucks
load up the bags, I give you three
100 bucks a bag, and this fourth one if free,
gives 100 bucks more plus bonus, and drinks on me

As Hobo silently digests what Black had said,
White breaks in with, ’15 minutes you have, then out you get
to the corner of Park St. and 12th, comet
My car, engine running, will be waiting there

6:46; and not one second later,
The bags should be in, and door slam shut
You stray away as homeless do

6:47; I will be gone,
A race, before the cops
So if you can’t make it,
Or don't see me there,
Dumpster the stuff
Feed the fire

‘Got it,’ mumbles Hobo
‘So what’s the store's name’
Black looks around, and doesn’t see me
Hands over a slip
The name of hit easy

Hobo looks up, eyes staring
‘This store’, he gushes, ‘it’s locked down since last week’
‘How do you know?’, voices in unison
Then again the harsh voice, menacing,
‘Yeah, how do you?’, it repeats

Hobo looks around, there’s nobody
but them three

Hobo caresses the sleeve of his new coat,
‘Seen this at the store display, every morning I leave
Till that night, when the dumpster flamed
And breaking glass, through the chants I hear
When the smoke cleared, I looked around
This coat,
It was gone!’

‘Mr. Whitman, the owner; his missus kicked him out
Heard her say, ‘Yo, I don’t want,
The gun is not for show’,
she said to Whit, ‘Get out of the store’,
and kick she did

It’s shuttered down, locked and sealed,
Gentlemen, why go there now,
it’s already a stolen field!’

‘Ha’, said the hard voice, with some pride,
‘the cops will never expect,
A store hit twice
There’s plenty more, we were there, we know
Few bags then, so we left them behind’

‘You get you’re a$$ in there
To grab, and fill
Blacky in seconds, will jimmy the seal
The flames this time will be larger, more light in the store
It will be like old days, picking cotton in the fields’
I took off the headset, a customer had come

They came to counter, paid and left a handsome tip
Hobo was missing, probably in men’s room
I wiped a glass, so I could think
“Today they plan to pickup Whitman’s charr
Tomorrow it could be Charlie’s bar”
--xx
--xx


Tonight, in Kenosha, Charlie’s bar
Drinks are free, it’s all on TV
Of a man with jimmy in hand,
Shot at the door, already charred
Cops found another, shot dead
Inside parked car, engine running,
some pieces of head

'Oh, by the way', barman asked Hobo
'about the fawn, I got 400 bucks ..,'
Whitman replied, ‘You keep it Johnny,
Missus wanted it so’

Tonight, in Kenosha, Charlie’s bar
Drinks are free, it’s all on TV