|
PHILIP MARLOWE BLUES
It is the godforsaken hour and the pain which wakes
That brings him to the window where he sees
Los Angeles as a neon grid spreading in the dark
"You're not human tonight Marlowe," he quips
He's tired of those vicious yellow eyes of crime
Filling up the window like a morphine addict's dream
As down those mean streets an assassin and his patron walk
In silk Italian suits, and none to intervene - save one,
"Sometimes honour is the cloak of thieves," says Marlowe to the wall
Better to step lightly through the oyster-coloured rain,
Snatch her wrist tightly, say -"So many guns and so few brains,"
And kiss her hard while pocketing the chrome .22 she grasps
And swoon like everybody's somebody's fool- just once
And in that hour, in the Cancer Ward, Philip Marlowe P.I.,
Reaches for a cigarette, clears his throat and laughs!
|
|
