woman of inclemency
in this city, women come in one flavor:
the dangerous kind.
she sat on the bar stool with her silk covered legs
crossed, all the ammo she needed to gun me down.
I nursed my drink as I carefully observed her bosom,
but not just for the obvious reasons; I almost expected
her to draw a Derringer out of her bra.
two prominent men that she was known to have
caroused with, were found strangled in seedy motel
rooms. one of them was a judge, so the case was red hot.
all the flaming neon arrows pointed to her, but you can’t
hang an enterprising girl for sleeping around.
she wanted to be comfortable while I interrogated her, so
we went to her Fifth avenue apartment. she slipped into
her powder room for a moment, then slipped out in a flimsy
thing made of my wettest dream. she offered me a short
dust-colored drink, & like a sap, I took it.
after two swallows, I succumbed to the beckoning of a soft
black embrace, the same one the hero falls into in old
when I awoke, the sun was poking through the blinds with
orange juice fingers. she was sleeping next to me, all naked &
beautiful, but I couldn’t recall the night’s X-rated details…if
there were any.
the radio’s morning news informed me that another of her
ex-boyfriends had been found murdered. same cheap setting.
same m. o. only this time, I was her alibi.
I’d like to say that I collared the Midnight Strangler, collected
the bounty, & got the girl with the dangerous eyes too, & we
drove off into the sunset in my Coupe deVille…
…but in my passion plays, the femme fatale always wins.