The Robber

Mr. Raney was always a favorite of ours. Our neighborhood is one of the loveliest neighborhoods around. When he first moved in everyone breathed a sigh of relief because he moved into the ugliest and most neglected house on the street. We expected great things from him.

Bony hands,
What do they do?
They play at dice
And with whom?
A promoted demon
Who wants my soul
And they tell him,
Bony hands,
He can have it all!

In the fall you notice leaves
that are hanging on the trees,
noisily moving in the gentle breeze.
All the leaves hang lowly
through the night
as if they’re poisoned,
the leaves and trees alike.
They are dying slowly,

Hearing the phantom calls of the organ,
And the soft murmur of the church choir,
Awakened from sleep with a feeling she couldn’t describe,
She got out of bed and followed it outside.
A careful mist lay over her small town, a light shield of protection.

Have you ever awakened in the middle of the night? You look around and all your clocks are flashing. Blinking, on and off, on and off. You think to yourself, was it supposed to storm tonight? You decide the best way to find the solution is to check outside.

Standing stiffly in an elevator,
An automatic mouth swallowing,
The girl who so surely stepped inside,
When she was little,
Hoping for a ride.

DIM… DIM… DIM… DIM… DIM… The soft, high note of the last key on a piano rang through the night repeatedly… and it was keeping someone up.