Millionaires in empty boxes
barricaded in bath robes.
Self-righteous sundries
sit still for that sunset they'll
never see, like "Layla" playing
with a gang of good fellas.

The trench took a bit, but
they're not worried. It will be
filled-in still-lifes well before
wives find out. Tough love
rises above the rest; especially
when you're pumping hot lead.

Jimmi was riding a little yellow cab
when mr. Rodino came and offered him a job
he pulled his black case and showed a stack of cash
and Jimmi's eyes burned to the ash
and then he said : stop the car right there
and wait for my signal, come on boys
we have to be fast, don't give the time a rest

chasing the sun, running from the rain
a blue-red combination pull down the vain
mr. Rodino had a master plan
a new life in mexico, and a little green
just to make it the best than that's ever been
with a glass of confidence and variety of smiles
now step it son, step on the gas

as he was just as much involved in this
Jimmi took an opportunity to live at least
you know when you get to that point in your life
where everything seems so simple, but the ways are hard
he took his name and offered himself
to be more than just a driver, to be a man

Jimmi stepped into the mud
his shoe got stained, just like his life
mr. Rodino applauded for the task well done
let us celebrate with a glass of my finest vine
one for all and all for ONE

the car was running high into the night
Jimmi had that same old spark, same old light
he knew that he won't get his share
that he is just a man to spare
another worm in a simple task
a master's slave
and he just lost his life

the night was dreamy, gloomy and alive
like a hundred bullets running through his mind
Jimmi stopped the car along the road
there was just no turning back
i'll start the show

he pulled his cold knife
and killed Rodino and his guys in their sleep
no one's gonna play me off, don't worry, your money i will keep

he got rid of the car, took the money, running far
time to hitchhike along the road
Jimmi's gonna start the show

a man stopped and told him to get in
and that he'll take him in the city of the sin

We enter the church and immediately
have to push through two dozen sobbing Italian women
dabbing dry eyes; their tissues only show
black and multi-colored smears. Amid the echoing
“Oh my Goawd”s, they lean down and kiss my sister’s cheeks,
but even in my best black cap sleeves, I am the taboo
to my cousin Janet, a woman as barren as the stone lot
in between her husband’s restaurant and Deihl’s Autoshop.

We find an empty pew, and watch as the men
stride down the aisle, contestants
in a cultural Miss America pageant where the wrong answer
gets you whacked. Their heavy brows
sink in condolence as they hand over stacks of bills,
every hundred becoming a pity penny
for all the moments Janet lost in her luxury-life
made shiny by diamonds and cars and fur coats
which can’t be cashed in for a second chance at a family.

The men have paid for the food, the china, the band
in the corner meant to fill the space of sadness—
a reminder that we live a lavish life.
My sister shifts in her seat and as a man walks
by she touches his jacket, and gasps.
He’s a god.

She slowly started to hear what sounded like whispers in the distance, her mind was at ease though.  It felt like a bed she was laying on, plush, maybe even extra pillows under her head. Her face ached more than she thought possible and trying to open her eyes made her head throb more than she could stand.  

There was a shadow in the distance, a man, standing perfectly still. She could only make out his shape but he seemed familiar, friendly. She finally felt safe though, for the first time in days. The man said something she couldn't understand, then he rushed to her side.

"Clara, you're awake! Finally! It's been 12 hours. How are you feeling?" he said rushed and excitedly.

"Uncle Frankie?" she asked weakly.

"Yes Sweetie, I'm here, you're safe now" he said with a big awkward smile. He'd always been awkward, since she was a little girl, but he was her dad's little brother and she loved him like a father.

"What happened?", she was so confused, the last few days were a blur of fists and guns in her mind.

"Johnny BlackHeart and his crew kidnapped you Clara. They held you captive for days, called us for ransom and demands, said they'd torture you if we didn't comply.  We finally found out where they were keeping you yesterday, me and the guys came in guns blazing and killed most of the guards. We thought we'd lost you for a few minutes but George got you out just in time. We're so lucky you made it."

She took all this in and in the next instant all the memories came rushing back, the beatings, the restraints, all of it.  She sat up quickly, refusing her uncles hand for help.

"We need a family meeting, now! Get George and the boys in here immediately!" she said angrily.

"What are you going to do?" he asked wearily.

She looked at him like it should have been obvious but she said it anyways, in the calmest voice she could.

"Get Revenge"

Her eyes slowly lifted,  she squinted at the light practically burning her eyes.  There were shapes,  human shapes, surrounding her but she couldn't make out the faces. Then within her line of sight a fist comes hurling towards her face, connecting with her jaw and giving her whiplash on top of the large bruise that was surely already forming.  

All of sudden there was shouting and bright lights coming from every direction, gun shots blazing through the dimly lit room. A man shouted her name, she couldn't tell where it came from or who said it but they certainly said Clara.  She scanned the room, bodies were steadily dropping,  men screaming like babies,  suddenly the ropes that tied her hands were being undone.

"We've got you ma'am" said a familiar voice from the shadows.  

As quickly as it all began she was being carried through a dark hallway in strong arms. Slowly all the lights faded to nothing and she could no longer even hear her own breath.