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splinterswerve
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
splinterswerve.hotmail.com

by John Creary

                        he awoke from a big sleep on the floor of Hollywood Boulevard
                        with a simple act of murder under the tongues of stacked clients
                        his head throbbed like a demolition; the melodrama of a hangover

            highballs led to a dead author’s jackpot and a dark night’s black spot
            his eyes were hardboiled, his fedora crisp, his fingers plump, dancing
            near the muzzle of a hot Luger and a backyard full of stupid cops

                        he wore his noir like a job, sinking into the ethics of a bloodhound
                        loving the mystery, wearing the mask and a couple choice wisecracks
                        he played chess, smoked Camels and ate the pulp of a grim fiction

            this city was built on rats, a playground for nearsighted crooks
            backstabbing with slick handshakes, stealing dead ends for a headline
            he was after the fat man, chasing moonlit nightmares and soft wounds

                        today, the problem with bullets involves half heads and barbershop windows
                        shutterbugs snapping stills of blood clots on bodies with missing fingers
                        in the basement of tall buildings, racing journalists, scripting motives         

with star studded gangsters famous for clenched teeth and black menacing cars
you deserve more Marlowe. You can have my violence, my sex, and my crime novel
here are my fingerprints and six yapping triggers and a voice of a black and white
femme fatale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                            Yeah? This is Marlowe...                                                                                                            

 

 

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