Like Bonnie and Clyde,
we rode the
night like thieves.
We hit most of
the stores in town.
I'd get the wine and
she'd get her
beauty products and
cleaning supplies.
She acted as if the
cameras didn't apply to
her.
I was all about
the booze.
Often I wouldn't even know
what I was
getting. When we got
home
it would be a
surprise to both of us.
"Oh look honey,
merlot, what goes
good with that? "
Or,
"Have you ever had
pinot noir? "
Stealing with her was
such a rush
like that first line of
really good cocaine.
We felt untouchable,
invincible,
until one night
we found out we weren't.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem