Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

Working Sucks - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A single ray of sun was peeking
through dusty drapes in my old flat,
downstairs the landlord's hussy shrieking,
she was as dumb as she was fat.
It was that time of day again
when duty calls and sleep still clings,
across the tracks a loud Big Ben
I'm out of bed get in my things,
and stumble down the cluttered stairs.
The smell of cabbage and tamales
and grunts and groans of wild affairs,
I pass the place of Jim Gonzales.
The door flips open and his head
with greasy hair and comedones,
he beckons me, 'let's go instead
of to your house of human bones
down to the gang they've got a plan
of very good and juicy specs,
it's time you did become a fan
of our leader, Waco Tex.'
So, what the hell, I figured, once
would give me something else to do
I knew they had high powered guns
and really did not have a clue
but I was greedy like the rest
who wouldn't grab his neighbour's gold
and if they put me to the test
I would just do what I was told.
So, that same night we robbed the bank
I was the driver waiting there
while Tex and George as well as Frank
went in through ducts to get their share.
It took some time and while I waited
a cop came up and started talking.
I told him that I was elated
to see him here, instead of walking
his beat because I was quite bored,
my boss was finishing his taxes
while I was sitting here, ignored
he'd make some calls and send some faxes
but that is life and I get paid.
The copper nodded and then sat
next to myself, a serenade
was coming from the radio at
precisely 9 p.m. which was
the pick-up time we had aggreed on.
Perhaps I ought to, with my claws
get rid of him who here had peed on
this party that would get us rich.
And then the copper said 'My boy,
I am not one of those dumb pigs
I've watched you and it is a joy
to sit with you, smoke three four cigs
and introduce myself to you
a future partner in your deal
let's wait for your exclusive crew
oh, what a night, oh what a spiel.'

And so it came that all the loot
had to be split into not four
but five, because of this astute
policeman who had smelled a score.
So, fourteen million was the take
it was enough to go to Rio
we took new names, they were all fake
I'm writing this, Oh, sole mio
from Biggs' old place where he first stayed
it overlooks the cardboard shacks
at night when all the noises fade,
and Rio crims roam 'round in packs
we sit on our big balcony,
sip whiskey or some other beverage
and know that we are truly free.
Those millions give your life some leverage.
And our copper's been elected
as body guard to keep strange men
away from us, he has detected
no one who lives near the Big Ben.

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Read poems about / on: future, time, night, house, hair, sleep, joy, sun, work

Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 15, 2005

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