I can *see* this poem living on an old projector reel. Well done.
I can see her in the lamplight,
Red hair and kitten heels,
A cigarette smokes in her hand,
I know just how it feels.
I’d love to go and say hello,
And ask her for a drink,
But I’ve watched this dame for days and nights
And she’s hovering on the brink.
I was hired by her husband,
Who’s a low-down dirty rat,
But he’s got the folding green stuff,
And I’d like a bit of that.
To keep me in neat bourbon,
To help me pay the rent,
‘Cause I have to dodge the landlord,
And believe me, he’s no gent.
There’s a scar across his knuckles
From the last time that we met,
If he sees my empty hands again
I know just what I’ll get.
So I’m following this beauty,
‘Til I catch her with a guy,
And I get a coupla photos,
‘Cause a photo doesn’t…
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