So many people would visit
Men, dressed in suits and ties
Daddy would always be there
I learned later, they were alibis

Plenty of money to go around
We had everything under the sun
A beautiful home, cars to match
Daddy would never be outdone

Mama never questioned why
His meetings, were behind a closed door
I’m not really sure she understood
What it meant, to be in a mob war

Both of us were oblivious to it
Daddy never let on, not at all
But eventually, we found out the secret
It was the beginning of our downfall

Mama wound up in the psych ward
She remained there until she died
I wound up in psychotherapy
It seemed like a good place to hide

They found my body, on Christmas Eve
I no longer needed to be discreet
Still, no one knows who murdered me
So much for a life, lived on easy street

Author’s Note:  This poem is loosely based on a memoir written by Susan Berman, about her father, titled “Easy Street: The True Story of a Mob Family”.  In what remains an unsolved crime, Berman was murdered in her home and her body discovered on Christmas Eve day 2000.

August Writing Prompt – Easy street – Day 21/31

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