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Hopefully these two young boys stayed out of trouble after getting a wonderful break like this. While barreling through the subway on a smelly Friday night, I sat and watched the endless lights go flick’ring by, so fast. A deep, hypnotic trance would always numb my tired mind, until I’d feel the churn subside and reach my stop at last. Like many late December nights, the air was damp and cold. The winter wind was bitter, and the snow was hard and deep. The passengers sat quietly, they almost always did, and some would softly visit, while a few of them would sleep. Just a couple minutes had gone by when, through the door, a pair of really hard-up-looking boys would make their way. Most were prob’ly hoping they were merely passing through, but near the middle of the car, the tallest stopped to say, “Listen everybody, this is how it’s gonna be.” And as he pulled a knife, he growled, “You make a move, you’re dead! I’m not gonna ask you twice, so don’t be holdin’ back. All we want’s your wallets… and your jewelry.” Then he said, “If you give us what we want…no one will get hurt. And don’t do nothin’ stupid. If you do…you’ll pay the price! We can do this easy…or we can do this rough. It’s up to you. Now, dig, y’all… we’re tryin’ to be nice!” As I watched them make their way from soul to shivering soul, brandishing a switchblade knife, my mind would fill with hate. I contemplated what to do, and when to make my move. My heart was racing fast as I would calmly stand and wait. “Give it up,” the kid would scream at one old feeble man. “I’ll cut ya’ good if - when I count to three - you’re holdin’ back!” He grabbed his wallet - peeled his watch - then shoved him to the floor. I felt my soul ignite as we went roaring down the track. Only one was left before they’d get to where I stood. My heart was beating wildly. I would be the final one. The boy who held the knife assumed…as I reached ‘round my back…that I was reaching for my wallet…not a hidden gun! A New York cop - off duty - I was headed home from work. These boys had picked the worst of times to mug a helpless crowd. I drew my pistol, aimed it toward the two of them, and said, “It’s your turn, boys, to… ‘give it up.’” My words were strong and loud. “Now…drop the knife…and put the things you’ve taken on the seat. Your stealing days are over. Put your hands around that bar.” I nodded toward the pole that people hold to fight the sway, then twirled the chain around the pipe, and cuffed them to the car. The folks who’d lost their money and their jewelry to the punks retrieved their things, collectively...their faces filled with joy. But when the man they’d been a little rough with found the nerve, he walked up rather cautiously, and asked the shorter boy, “Why don’t you just get a job, son? You don’t have to steal. If you’ll come and see me…I can help you. Here’s my card. I will give you both a job. It shouldn’t be like this.” And then he turned to me and said, “Sir…you may find this hard… “But can you somehow find it in your heart to let them go? These boys are very young, and I believe, inside…they’re good. So, if you take their names…and they will give their word to come…I will give them both a job tomorrow, if you would.” The subway car was somehow feeling motionless and still. The crowd would stand there silent, as they watched my puzzled face. He was seeing young, misguided boys - who would reform…I was seeing thieves…that I would one day have to chase! I quickly searched my mind as I surveyed the silent crowd, most their faces prompting me to grant the man’s request! Should I take the cuffs off and release them, as he’d asked…or do what my experiences were telling me was best? “Give them one more chance,” he begged, “they’re barely in their teens. Try to think of how it was when you were just a kid. All of us have done things, as a child, that we regret. I’ll bet you got in trouble once or twice for what you did “Back when you were just a boy, like these two have tonight.” My heart began to soften as I listened to his plea. I more or less agreed with him, and put my gun away. “I hope you’re right,” was all I said, as I produced the key. The two young boys would stand there, quite amazed by what he’d said, then sweep their victims’ faces, and address them…one by one. They swore that they were sorry…and were glad that they had failed…and begged for their forgiveness for the foolish thing they’d done. The taller one, now crying - as they hung their heads in shame - claimed they’d never tried to steal a thing before that night. And as they left the subway car, when we had reached our stop - my heart tried reassuring me that what I’d done was right. Perhaps, next day, they actually went to work for that old man. And maybe they still work for him. I’d like to think they do. And he was right…I’d done my share of bad things in the past…but on that night I got the chance - to give a chance - to two! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied pieces). They’re listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or available by simply contacting me at -- mark@writerofbooks.com -- should those of you who enjoy listening to poems as well as reading them - and particularly those of you that travel - care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) Cheers, Mark
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