put your hands up

I hand my wallet
over to the mugger, me
being the muggee.
he's holding what looks
like a rubber gun.
is that gun real, I ask
him, it looks like it's
made of rubber.
I can see the tag on it.
in fact. I turn my head
sideways and read toys r us
on the tag.
shut up, he says, or i'll
plug you.
can I put my arms down,
I ask him.
it's been a long day job
hunting, plus
I had to take my cat
in to the vet. some sort
of rash.
he looks at me and shakes
his head.
okay, you can put one arm
down.
what's up with this wallet,
you have no cash,
one stinking credit card,
a library card.
you don't even have any
photos.
no wife, no kids?
I switch arms, raising
up the other one.
i'm sorry, I tell him,
it's been a rough couple
of years. my wife left
me for another woman.
my kid hates me, calls
me only for money. I found out
the other day, he might
not even be my kid.
that's a shame, he says.
no phone? nope, dropped
it in the sink the other
day, it's fried.
oh brother, he says, handing
me back my wallet.
he puts his rubber gun
back into his coat
then hands me a five dollar bill.
here, get yourself a burger.
you can put your arm down, he
says. but stay out of the alley,
okay.
you're a complete waste
of my time. now scram.