Tom Priestley

The Big Noir - Poem by Tom Priestley

The stink of romance on the bed
The caballeros waiting in the ashtray
The ninety degree pipes turn red
And two tone lotharios sweep away
The good natured heart of the whore
Who stuck her face in a fist
And pulled up and wept by the door
The neighbours paint disease on the walls
The new assassin shoots to kill
Covered in cartoons and overalls
Using catchphrases from pulp and Bogart stills
Their lives a mystery
A cliché
A yarn
Cigarettes stapled to their lips
With noir quips and dirty scars
A detective in the lobby
A gambler in the backroom
While a damsel asks a favour for money
And the cops give the broom to the starlight junky
With five kids and railroad tracks
No food
No nothing
With a wife who doesn't want him back
Hate in the corridors
And a black and white life
Filled with drunks and the guilty
Who'll never get caught without a fight
The usual suspects lined in a row
Pulling guns
Pulling faces
Falling in love
And knowing sometime they'll have to go

Topic(s) of this poem: alcohol, poem, sex

Form: Dirge

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016

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