I am a Storyteller, first and foremost. This is my blog for poetry, prose, stories, excerpts of my novels and videos. Life poetry, prophetic poetry, poetry for all genres. I think you'll find yourself here if you read long enough.
Nights of Noir It was a dark and stormy night You know the kind------------ I turned down the brim of my hat, Turned up the collar of the trench, And stepped out into the rain. Somewhere out there in that rain, There was a dame with blonde hair, Long legs and sexy shoes, Holding a martini............ And I meant to find her. Being a Private Eye Sometimes meant long, lonely nights, Sometimes meant getting your teeth knocked out, Sometimes meant hours of boredom in dead cars And sometimes meant getting lucky. I was going to make my own luck tonight Joe's Bongo Banana Bar called my name Well, not really, but you know what I mean The gaudy neon sign had blinked into my office And reminded me that I needed a drink. It had been a quiet day A day filled with dust bunnies Floating on bright streams of sunshine And filing cabinets that needed files And ringless telephones. Finally at three, a call awoke me I was dozing on my office's cheap divanette Dreaming of blondes and Mom's apple turnovers The women were bad and cold
And the turnovers were good and hot. "I need your help." a sultry voice said And I rubbed my eyes, yawning "How may I help you?" though I really didn't want to "I need you to follow my husband." she whispered (Oh, goody, the standard old cheating husband routine!) It was not my favorite thing to do But it paid the bills---------- "Okay, I'll get right on it." I promised And grabbed a pad and pencil And took down her particulars. Then it all took an interesting turn "I want you to follow him and then call me," she said "And let me know where he's at Because I'm going out with Big Arnold tonight And I don't want to run into him." Geez Louise!!!!!! What a lovely situation! What did she think I was!? Oh, yeah---------- I forgot. I was a follower of people. For money. But Big Arnold was a gangster And I valued my life, if only a little And I didn't want to get on the wrong side of that guy Or her husband, who to turned out to be Berny the Weasel So I turned the job down and left her real mad. The rent would just have to wait for a while Something would turn up.It always did------- Usually wearing mink with piles of bleached hairdo And livid, lush smiles made of flaming red lipstick. I ducked under awnings trying to keep out of the rain And noticed some action going on down the street There were two flashing cop cars and a skinny guy in handcuffs, A loud wail of anger and a big clock that said ten.
"Evening, boys." I said as I walked to the scene And the cops grunted at me, "Move along, move along Nothing to concern you at all here, Gumshoe." For they clearly despised me and all of my kind But their kind kinda kept us in business. "I'm being framed!" the guy in cuffs yelled In my general direction, and then, "Can you help me?" And I didn't know and I said I would consider it And I seriously did till they told me his name: Berny the Weasel was goingdowntown. Well, I knew two people Who would be happy to hear that, Maybe had a part in it, for all that I knew Had lined somebody's pockets But I just didn't care. I walked into Joe's, Grabbed my favorite booth A martini was brought me Without my having to ask The waitress, outrageous, flirted as she always did.
"You watch too many P.I. shows." I scolded the kid 'Cause she had infatuations for Marlowe and Bogart Desperate love for Dick Powell And I came close enough. I sat watching the rain through the bar's steamy windows Sipping my drink, and then I checked my watch Yep, it was still there............ The thunder roared and the lightning flashed And then I saw her coming towards me in the flash. She had wavy blonde hair, She had long pretty legs, She was carrying a martini--------- But she had on the ugliest shoes I'd ever seen in my life! "Mind if I join you?" she murmured and sat Before I could issue an invite, or look her over twice, Or move my poor hat Before she plopped herself on it. "Sorry." she smiled, extracting the hat And placed it on the table Where I uncrumpled the crown and put it back on my head "It's okay," I said, huskily and gave her a wink "Darling, you can sit on my hat anytime." I ordered us another round of martinis And dove into her eyes like an Olympiad swimmer There was something about her, something so fetching Something mysterious, something so good, And something, let's face it, that was very, very bad. As the night wore on, I fell deeply in love In love, as only a gumshoe can love Who doesn't know any better and has nothing better to do It happened a lot. It was an addiction I needed a fix. And she had the cure. She told me starry-eyed tales of her Iowa town, Farm life and moo cows and home on the range She was charming. She was lovely She was the devil in disguise (For none of it was true. But I was a sap.) I still visit her...... often.... in prison For she was, of course, a murderous girl She had killed her 4th husband, the oil millionaire All of his staff, including his butler, His chauffeur, his cook and even his parrot. She wanted me to help her flee out of the country Had heard I was educated and knew all the tricks And finally admitted after the seventh martini That she'd been told I was a sucker for girls of her kind Cute curvy blondes with long sexy legs. But I let her down....... ultimately......like I often do And watched crocodile tears run down her pretty face As they roughed her and cuffed her and took her away She'd been mine for five hours and now she was theirs.
The boys in blue had been brutal and had taken me down To the station to tell them what I knew about her, Why I had been plotting with her in the bar, And what in the heck had been done to my hat. But I was a P. I. in diminishing love And I didn't want to admit that I'd been a fool I tried to defend her, tried to say she was innocent, But deep in my heart, I knew she was guilty, Knew she was a killer. She was just so darned cute. When I left the station, It was about almost seven The sun hid behind clouds, avoiding the rain The city was rising, like an alcoholic stumbling And I needed some coffee and some bad good morning news. Then the day passed----------- And the evening showed up Still raining, still stormy and still with no rent in hand I thought about the dame with the high priced ugly shoes And wondered how she looked in her striped prison suit. The phone rang just as I was reaching the door It was a woman----------- well, no, maybe not It sounded like a woman but I wasn't sure, It was high pitched and hoarse and was pleading with me. "Calm down, lady." I shushed her politely And sat back down behind my old battered desk "Give me the facts as you know them now, honey And I'll try to help you the best that I can." (Five minutes later, I realized I was talking to a parrot.) A parrot who had lost her dear only son In a massacre days before She was distraught and the cops wouldn't help (For she was a bird and had no legal rights.) "I'll take the case." I said like a man in a dream For the parrot had said that she was flying right over With a thousand dollar bill (which sounded real good to me) And besides, it would keep me involved with the blonde. Two hours later, I was walking out........... And down the street in dark distress The rain had slowed to a freezing drizzle That chilled me within and without. The Bongo Banana called but I didn't listen I crossed the street, got into my car Drove over the bridge and for what seemed like hours Parked outside a cabin by a lake in the woods. A giggling girl in an ermine coat Came tumbling out of the doorway A married man in a reddened face Said "Be quiet! Someone might hear!" And I waited till they pulled away and started up my car.
It was back to business as usual Now the rent was really late I'd waited for the parrot till I knew I'd been had By a real dirty cop playing a real dirty prank (For the parrot hadn't shown up with that thousand dollar bill.) Yeah, sometimes nights were boring As you waited for those husbands Sometimes nights were lonely as you waited for those wives And sometimes you got lucky when you walked into a bar But every night in a private eye's life, man, it always seems to rain.
