Tags
crime, detective, dreams, fantasy, imagination, longing, magazines, mystery, noir fiction, romance, sighs
Pulp fiction vixen,
you’ve stolen my heart.
Sultry suggestions,
whiskey and wine,
destroyed my defences
tore me apart.
I played it tough
like a hard boiled dick.
You played it cool
in your form fitting dress,
just one of your kisses —
and gone, oh so quick.
I’ll reach for the bottle
in my bottom desk drawer.
My answer to problems,
affairs of the heart —
if one drink won’t fix it,
I’ll try it some more.
I’ll suck on a cigarette
watch smoke float away.
Think of your perfume
still on my lapel —
chalk one for experience,
the end of a day.
The chapter’s not over,
the case isn’t solved.
When the facts are all sorted,
you’re caught dead to rights —
I’ll say, “So long, Sister.”
my dream has dissolved.
…
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Dennis Cardiff 