You’d always tell me how many chimneys the building we were in had.
Like some sort of chimney rain man.
I never knew how to respond, or what exactly to do with the information.
I’d nod and say, “OK, thank you.”

The day we robbed the bank together
We felt the rush of a very bad idea being played out.
Our lack of preparation never slowed us down,
and we made off with our satchel filled with money.
Two blocks down the road it exploded
and we were left standing on the sidewalk, covered in blue ink
While the sirens came closer.

In jail we’d scheme about ways to escape.
About digging, or climbing, or bribing, or sneaking.
I would tell you all the time how quiet we would have to be.
How we would buy a boat and float to Mexico, or the Caribbean.
You’d think for a while, before telling me the jail had 8 chimneys.

Self-Isolation – Day One Million – The good isn’t actually that hard to find.

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