Flicked a ****, ashes against the breeze
ice isn’t worth all this trouble, doublechecking over my shoulder
waiting to hear the cops shout “Freeze!”

Sparks snuffed out on the ball of my heel,
fists plunged deep in coat pockets
stamping my feet, back to the wind, but I can barely feel
it’s getting darker, just a few more blocks
buttons like missing teeth that let blood seep from my lips
every opportunity to remind me there is, fingertips reach into my coat
taking wristwatches in their greedy grips, I can’t focus on one shadow before the next dips
they’re running circles around me, passing time for sport while my mind slips

Through a blindfold I find my way back, awake under fire casting irons on my floor
my coat, my bed, where I lay down sometimes is where I rest my head
until my hands find memories of the night before,
the coals may be stoking outside, embers enough to smoke a city
all the distractions and half the work done on every two-man job; I am sitting pretty
I search over, my scarf that hides my face, fingers tread the surfaces of wallets, watches, bracelets and lockets
as I feel for the cold spot, the felt bag sewn into a patch beneath my second skin, my coat’s contraband pockets
I can see the tail of my ghost, trailing on my breaths as I exhale
for they are gone, and I see my life before me leads as clearly as a blueprint
I can see that I have failed, the pale of my host, flailing on my death as I am frail
to be shot and escape with diamonds only to be robbed in my sleep, thus retiring my stint
in no grand fashion, quite adhering to belief, that I was only a petty thief.