Mama, I want to be a gangster

mama, i want to be a gangster,

declared this beautiful son of mine

white saucers on his face beaming

standing tall and clever

he stood in the middle of the room

in the quiet whirl of a room where devices have been 

extinguished for the day

maaaama! I'm going to be a gangster 

came the declaration 

delivered with innocent motivation and firm conviction

my ears heard my mind rejected the pronouncement 

i paused gathering the words threatening to run away

and sweetly asked

what does a gangster do?

he stands up in court mama

speaks to the old man who's always cold

reads from big books bangs the table and shouts

and everyone listens!

i wanted to laugh

with relief and mirth

but softened my buttery voice

as much as i could muster

and corrected the little bugger

you want to be a barrister son

yes, that kind of gangster.