Put the Glock 9 in
an Entemann’s cake box.
Held it from the bottom.
Didn’t have to be there until later,
so Leonard went by the playground.
To shoot some hoop.
He let Julio hold the box.
“That’s a heavy cake, bro.”
“A lot of sugar,” he said, smiling.
No one felt like talking trash.
Sometimes some crazy shit happens on the playground.
In plain sight.
If you’d been there, you’d never look at an Entemann’s box the same way again.