First was from my granny.
No, worse. From my granny's church.
I was nine years old.
The cash was on her table.
It was the old currency,
pounds, shillings and pence,
collection from that morning
stacked neatly in piles.
I wanted a boat ride down at the lagoon.
You can imagine the rest.
I hid my loot in my towel
where my mom found it.
'Did you pinch this from granny? '
she asked with horror on her face..
I knew the right answer,
'No, I took it from your handbag.'
The second was Blake's Collected Poems.
I was at Exclusive Books
with the book in my hand,
when the power failed.
The music stopped,
all the lights went out.
You can imagine the rest.
I was severely punished
- by my conscience, of course.
It was years before I could read Blake.
John Garth Raubenheimer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-two-thefts/
