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I was a self-admitted misanthrope
unwilling to lose or drop a case.
I often threw a rope-a-dope
just to win; I never lose face.
I worked the dark streets
for dark, and even darker, clients
while the cops walked their beats,
shadows showing giants.
As far as I was concerned,
they were all a bunch of losers.
They were bad; they’d get burned.
The lot were boozers or bruisers.
I had caught a difficult case
The man was stabbed and shot.
He deserved it; he was debase,
but the perp would be caught.
The lawyer was my client,
he was dirty; the worst he could get.
Damn, he was mighty defiant!
Still, I didn’t think he did it.
He had no motive, but also no alibi.
So why were the cops after him?
He was a jerk, but had no reason to lie.
But for him the outlook was grim.
I might have to pummel every john
on the streets to get to the truth.
It wasn’t unpleasing to use my brawn
and I was a hellava good sleuth.
I’d search every city block.
I’d find the filthy little perp.
I’d find the lowlife and knock
the truth out of the twisted twerp!
26 August 2022
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Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2022
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