as far as con man stories go, i think i've heard them all. of grifters, ropers, faro fixers, tales drawn long and tall. but if one bears a bookmark in the confidence man's tome, twould be that of penelope, and of the brothers bloom.
at ten and thirteen bloom and stephen
had been through several foster families.
mischief moved them on in life, and moving kept them close.
for bloom had stephen, stephen bloom, and both had more than most.
another home, another main street. stephen looked around, then summed the burgh up thusly:
one theater. one car wash. one cafe. one park. one cat. which, through some mishap, had one leg.
one school, which meant one tight- knit group of local well-off kids.
their pocket-change bought rocket pops,
the brothers,
they were the `they'. all well loved, rooted, happy as you please.
could he simply
just drop his fears and go? leave his brother in the woods, and join the children?
this wasn't really true. cause in the root of stephen's psyche, something now began. a seed of grand epiphany. a hook. a tale.
a fiction made for profit, in which both boys played a part. a simple con in fifteen steps.
and then, as if a curtain had been pulled back from the sky.  some barrier within the younger bloom was broken.
so bloom performed his role in stephen's story to a t.
and being who he wasn't, could be as he wished to be.
must the numbers rattle on? must the fiction end?
so sunday came.
and straight from church, into the woods bloom led.
they stopped. their hearts leapt. there it was.
for just one moment, bloom forgot himself and ran too fast.
they didn't catch the will-o-wisp, but didn't really care.
our fledgling thieves were satisfied.
the children's parents, less so.
a bitter ending? maybe. but there's sweetness in the mix.
`o'henry's' was the town's one dry clean shop.
in truth, young bloom won't know for twenty years just how he felt.