The thief, he was born into money,
but was always ignored by his folks.
He was beyond intelligent,
but somehow always would end up broke.

He spent money like it were water,
and drank booze like he had no choice.
He didn't quite trust anybody
and hated the sound of his own voice.

He had very low self-esteem,
and hardly ever kept what he stole.
It was all apart of a game
it was all apart of being in control.

The thief knew the pusher.
In fact, they were quite civil.
For, although they both lived lives of vice,
their political affiliation was quite liberal.

They often spent nights at the same bar
and they would share what possessions they had.
For, they both were minimalists
and they both were most definitely mad.

The thief he had no real home,
and he had no real friends.
He ignored any bit of fashion or hygiene,
but was convinced he was the starter of all trends.

The thief preferred to steal bikes over jewelry.
clothes before cars,
food from plates, and
of course glasses from bars.

He never planned his heists;
acted upon impulse.
He never really got caught,
and his contraband never really got sold.

The thief, he had a funny way of earning your trust.
He told vivid stories
and seemed to have hordes of women
who were in lust.

He had a mysterious charm about him,
always had the right answers.
He was always very negative though
had the attitude of a cancer.

When the pusher was found dead,
it was the thief who quickly was blamed.
Everyone had a description
but, no one had a name.

09/09/2008

Posted on 09/09/2008
Copyright © 2025 Frank Lee