The men all had that same greedy look in their eyes, except for him. It was different. Vastly different. It looked like adoration or maybe I was just mistaking it for lust, I always seemed to do that.
My hands were still tangled in the strands...
When I was younger I was told of the romance tale of Bonnie and Clyde. Strange. I know. It was no Disney fairytale, no, it was a romance filled with desperation and violence and love. Ever since I learned of the two I dreamed of meeting my someone that would go through Hell and back just for me like Bonnie and Clyde.
The story I was told went like this.
It all first began when Bonnie visited her husband in prison where she met Clyde. She saw him every day until eventually she smuggled in a gun to break him out. He ended up being caught and sent back to prison. Once he was out that's when the romance was entangled.
They committed robbery together but Bonnie ended up getting caught. Once she was released they started up again but were smarter and didn't get caught. The two of them were a team and no one could beat them.
One fateful night when they were getting away is when they were caught. Ambushed and killed almost immediately with bullets through their chest. A love story gone wrong but still a love story.
I remember my mom being obsessed with the two of them. Such a wicked thing to put into a child's mind, I know, but she loved the idea of two people being maddening for each other they would do anything. That meant killing others and inducing in a life of crime. Most nights before bed she would read to me a poem that Bonnie herself had written to her mother.
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"Some day they'll go down together; and they'll bury them side by side, to a few it'll be grief- to the law a relief- but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde."
13 murders. Dozens of robberies and burglaries. $500 reward for the two, dead or alive. And it all ended with 130 bullets.
I had the story memorized in my head, it's what started this demented obsession of mine with true crime. It's all I've ever known and it's all I ever will know. It was practically my destiny from birth to know all this stuff and more.
Some days I imagined Ira was my Clyde but looking back now I realize he never was. I haven't met my Clyde yet nor do I think I will. A romance like that only ever happens once in a lifetime and that life is short-lived. It was rare and damning if it ever did happen.
No one wanted a romance anyways that was filled with violence and ended with death, who wanted that? No one. But yet inside I yearned even for a small spark of what they had. Maybe not the dying with each other part but the part where they were inseparable.
Though Ira did in a way play a part in my life like Clyde did to Bonnie. One of her poems deeply reminded me of it. So much so it had it as well memorized by heart. The Story of Suicide Sal.
"I left my old home for the city, To play in it's mad dizzy whirl. Not knowing how little of pity It holds for a country girl."
"There I fell for the line of a henchman, A professional killer from Chi; I couldn't help loving him madly; for him even now I would die... I was taught the ways of the Underworld; Jack was just like a god to me."
