deepundergroundpoetry.com
story for a pulp-art Bogart
someone said, if you can’t be a poet, be the poem. hell,
I’ll never be Hemingway, so I’ll settle for being the story that
surrounds me in this somber city. this city, that excites me
like a woman. I took her as my mistress years ago, needing
the mystery & the passion she offered, without asking much
in return, only my heart & my soul & every drop of my blood.
the weeping sorrow of the rain urged me into the nearest
saloon. I walked these streets at night, figuring to find the
intrigue that I craved. I usually ended up with a cheap pint of
Scotch & a shorter life span.
she changed that when she stepped in, the lightning making a
grab at her maidenly posterior. I shouldn’t have been surprised
when she walked over to me, since I was the only client in the bar.
her torch song was pretty common in this desolate city: the guy she
shacked up with was an ex-con. he promised to go straight & to look
for work. but mostly, he promised to stop hitting her. promises like
that break easy. she knew her jaw would be next, so she ran.
she had no money & no honest way to earn it, so that left one
simple, debasing choice: the way of the alley cat. ‘I could be good
to you, mister,’ she said. yeah. that had a real nice ring to it.
okay, so I’d flip a coin: heads, I’d be a stand-up guy & help out this
damsel in distress before she soiled her knees; tails, I’d take her up
on her offer like any other rat. it came up heads.
so here I was, a bum like me, tryin to be Galahad with a valiant heart &
a fearless white charger to carry him right into the fiery mouth of the
dragon. where was the profit in it. most dames would rather spend the
night with the dragon.
I drove her to Union Station; there was a train headed for her home town
at dawn. I bought her a ticket & gave her a few dollars pocket money. she
didn’t speak, but her moist eyes told me more than I wanted to know. she
put her arms around my neck & kissed me, sweet as a movie kiss. like a
soldier shippin out to war & his true-blue girl. it made me dream that maybe
I should keep her, take care of her the way she needed to be taken care of –
but dreams like that always pay off in broken hearts…
Published 24th Dec 2014
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likes 18
reading list entries 6
comments 15
reads 1795
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The author encourages honest critique.
24th Dec 2014 2:41am
I love how you make the reader feel as if they're right there. Great job. Enjoyed :)
24th Dec 2014 2:59am
Wow. This was a roller coaster ride. Much like real life. Thank you for sharing!
24th Dec 2014 3:30am
One of the million stories in the naked city, but this one's a beaut. The freshest pulp, pure and sweet.
24th Dec 2014 6:31am
24th Dec 2014 7:31am
..and the story excites like a woman, but being the poem is what it takes to live a dream, with a broken heart but all with the daring love...you inspire this converse for a pulpy poetic theorem in ur creation, beautiful agn JF. Tq fr this:)
24th Dec 2014 8:41am
24th Dec 2014 11:32am
24th Dec 2014 2:48pm
Anonymous
- Edited 25th Sep 2020 3:45am
24th Dec 2014 3:16pm
<< post removed >>
25th Dec 2014 3:52am
Enjoyed very much!! You just pull us in...I can hear the 8mm film ticking away...
Anonymous
26th Dec 2014 9:04pm
<< post removed >>
27th Dec 2014 6:19pm
Ooh, yeah, I like her moist eyes telling you more than you needed to know. This is a heartbreaker of a poem! So glad I'm reading it here in my darkened room, the place where I feed my poetry sickness. Thank you for the fulfillment!
28th Dec 2014 00:23am
John a chivalrous man always touches my heart and the ending was a perfect Bogart ending.. excellent inking with love Crim
1st Jan 2015 9:53pm
love the matter-of-factly feel of this...tho no true outcome is revealed...the ending packs an emotional punch..leaving the reader to wonder just whose heart would be left broken...Outstanding Ink..
4th Jan 2015 9:51pm
Love the haunting quality and urban mystique of this, the noir-touched style that is all your own. Also the Bogart reference, perfect for your persona. You're the private dick of poetry, LOL. Frank yet sensitive. Your take on women is truly heartbreaking. A guardian angel in a trench coat and fedora.
