His hands rained down the Cadillac,
slick and oily---he window washed for crack.
“My man, Crackerjack Jack-“
Quivering jaw, lips bruised lilac;
jazzy voice of a memory walked back,
scrounging change---enough for a sack.
Wry fingers pulled from a cigarette pack,
old pictures of Mama and big brother Mack.
Rubbing scars where Dad showed no slack,
one long drag, “Damn good smack!”
Blue eyes widen as he sinks into the black,
“My man, Crackerjack Jack-“
whispering through his heart attack... |
Submission Name: Crackerjack Jack 
