We both knew
before we laid
eyes on each other
that this bad idea
would find its way
to brighten our day.
That night we laughed over shots
at a dingy dive bar.
Our names—we didn’t exchange.
But I could pick her deep
blue eyes out of a lineup
of a hundred women,
and if she hadn’t stolen my car keys
for a joy ride,
coupled with my addiction to cheap thrills,
I’d have never known the thief
of hearts, that is Hannah.
I yearned for my heart alone;
fuck the car; I was going to sell it anyway.
I sent a tip to the feeling police.
In court, she begged for forgiveness
as prosecutors offered a plea deal.
I lied and said it was a misunderstanding,
but she should get life for kidnapping my heart.
“No one had ever done anything that nice,” she said. She said she’d make a living out of returning the favor.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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