"cream"
He told me,
"Go tell the bartender
I need a 'cream.'"
I asked, "What's that?"
He said, "Cops and robbers,
all that. You know."
He gave me that look.
Next thing I knew
we were in the vehicle
running from the cops,
bullets flying everywhere.
I was in the back seat
all crowded into the middle,
feeling like a sitting duck
at the county fair.
The guys in front
side swiped just about everything
as our driver (who was the bartender)
drove with one hand
while getting his revolver out
with the other.
Then we faced oncoming traffic,
headlights coming right at us!
We maneuvered down a side street,
ditched the cops.
The bartender surveyed the back of our vehicle
telling us everything looked intact.
We drove over the state line.
By four in the morning
we'd found a place to lick our wounds.
I hate passing messages to the bartender.
You never know what will happen next.
SKB
(From a dream).
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