Like the time Claude walked across the street
to Koeschlein's General Store, pointed a shotgun
at the clerk, thanked him for the money, went
back home and waited for the police to come,
watching Adam-12, probably, on TV.
Or when the group of vets from the local VA
got out and robbed the bank in the town square,
sat by the flagpole and waited for a taxi
they'd called to take them to the train station.
Not exactly Bonnie and Clyde, but then
it seemed enough at the time, enough to make
stories out of, enough to put off
the desperation of waiting for sirens,
for the hand that comes knocking at your own door.
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