Serendipity Poem by Bert Bell

I met her at Strawberry Fields
one day on my lunch
break.
She was sitting on a bench
eating an apple.
She was tastefully
dressed
all in black,
and her fingernails
were black, too, like her hair.
On the bench
next to her, she had a violin case.
I asked her if she had a Tommy gun
in it, and she smiled.
'Yeah, ' she said, 'I woik fuh da mob.'
'I hope it's not me they're after, '
I said.
'Nah, ' she said, 'it ain't you.'
'You sure? '
'Of course, ' she said, 'I'd nevah whack
a nice guy like you.'
'My name's Clyde Barrow, ' I said,
'what's yours? '
'Bonnie Pawkah, ' she said.
'How about you and I go go knock over
a Starbucks, Bonnie? '
'Shuah, why not? ' she said, 'I could use a cup o' java.'
Now, we live in Brooklyn Heights.
We have a little girl with black hair and black
fingernails who takes violin lessons.