' Just the facts', the gruff detective yelled,
they'd stopped the Greyhound two miles out of town,
two hundred big ones in a paper bag, contents withheld
from preying eyes, but I had surely been the clown
that day when courage struck and slyly urged...
I must explain though, I was poor,
and just that week it had emerged
that all those bills, piled on my table
were overdue and, yes for sure,
did bother me, though, quite unable
to pay, I needed to contrive
a quick appropriate solution,
that's how I did at last arrive
on holding up that institution.
No hesitation in my step, I marched inside.
' This is a hold-up, boys and girls, I need the money',
most of the tellers' pupils instantly went wide,
the manager looked very pale, he did not find me funny.
I tipped the driver of the yellow cab a brand new fifty,
he dropped me at the station (where I used to sleep) ,
two former buddies, both of them a trifle shifty
were crouching on the heating duct to keep
the frost away from ethanol-soaked bones.
The ticket said SEATTLE and my bus would leave,
as the PA speaker announced in scratchy tones,
very shortly. I concluded that this very eve
had been my lucky one and I had dough,
enough for a new life with no more bills to pay.
And dozing off, snug and convinced I was a real Pro,
the level of adrenalin decreasing slowly, what a day!
' Mount Vernon Washington', a stop I won't forget.
' End of the line', that fat detective said with pride,
and, if you ask me, I just wish we'd never ever met,
I was taken, now in handcuffs, for a ride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for the ride, Herbert!