Met the Greeks under the bridge where the rust drips Two crates on a truck, one busts his lips with a toothpick "Cash only, no credit slips" Z pops the trunk while I count Meiku's walking circles like she's looking to piss Scar pries the lid, wood splinters on his hand Thompsons packed in oil, spoiled newspaper from Cleveland "Fresh from Detroit, understand?" His brother picks his teeth, spits I'm counting twenties with ink still wet from my shift Pulled one out slow, thing weighs like a sledge Drum already loaded, corroded bolt near the edge "Fifty rounds, holds its pledge" Stock's got initials - J.M. Z works the action - sounds like breaking a stem "You shot one before?" Greek wants to know I lie through my teeth "Army taught me years ago" Meiku coughs, says her uncle had three used how to learn them in France Greeks look at us not catching the romance Loaded them quick, no small talk after that Wrapped under tarps and a painter’s flat "Don’t come back here" Three blocks down a cop gave us a look Z drove slow, but I saw his jaw snap Meiku said something 'bout needing a coffee Radio low, playing Dorsey softly "After we drop these off" Radio's playing low, so Meiku hums along now "Coffee after we get through this row" My back's screaming from the lift Tomorrow I'm at the shop, setting type for the morning shift
