A POEM - HE USED TO WORK FOR ME

HE USED TO WORK FOR ME
Vinny was this guy
who used to work for me
Back in college
when I ran a franchise painting company.
He was a real meat head,
all the way.
But I liked him
because he was so big and stupid
That he scared the customers
into signing off on the jobs,
and giving me good ratings.
(they’d be deathly afraid that if they didn’t,
Vinny might come back to their house,
and none of them wanted that).
A few years later I ran into him at a bar.
He was there with this decent looking blonde,
Who stood next to him like a dumb animal
Waiting for instruction.
“hey, fuckface,” he said to me.
“still painting houses
and exploiting college kids?”
I liked his sense of humor.
We’d always more or less gotten along.
“naw,” I said. “I gave that up.
What about yourself?
I thought you’d be in jail by now.”
His face became serious.
He frowned his Neanderthal eyebrows
and lowered his voice and said,
“hey, shut the fuck up. I just got out.”