She just steals wallets,
her old man says.
Plucks ‘em right out of your purse.
Looking both ways,
sugared nose sniffling,
head swiveling
like that brat’s from THE EXORCIST.
Me:
She snatched my whole bag --
the one that looked like a red Corvette,
stuffed with make-up, IDs,
seven bucks in cash.
On the curb I sat,
howling.
Feeling hopeless,
Loveless.
It was Valentine’s Day!
No red satin heart
shaped like your ass.
Not one damn rose,
but plenty of thorns.
The moon as hard and white
as a missing cue ball.
Pickpocket Pearl:
I snatched her old man
From under
her nose.
And I didn’t even want him.
Cindy Rosmus is a short story writer and screenwriter. Her fiction has appeared previously in The 13th Warrior Review, Hardboiled, Devil Blossoms, and The North American Review among others. Her short story collection, Angel of Manslaughter was recently published.