It's been a while; I took a beer from the bar
and sat in a booth
which obscured the view, the world
and myself.
I wanted to be a young man
needing a young woman, but the head of the pint
soaked my mind into a quickly foaming reality
that I had to watch go flat.
I kind of slouched in the seat,
a tired-eyed server asked me
"if I was Okay”?
I dry mouthed a thin-lipped grin,
she looked away,
maybe she was avoiding a sight
in my sore eyes.
I ordered fries, to change the subject
or distract - not sure which.
It was dark by then
my reflection in a window
was too much to comprehend.
Slowly I drained the bottom of the glass
of any further meaning.
I felt better.
The fries had not yet arrived,
maybe they never did.
I eased myself out of one empty space
to enter another.
I had to try to walk away
from an old movie in my head.
I am behind
the large white wheel of an Oldsmobile.
I am a page ripped from a Raymond Chandler novel.
Clipped words curl close to my lips as hot as ash.
Dreamy eyes are cold tonight, there will be death
at the side of a desert back-road.
Revolvers will be shaken until blood spills from a mouth.
I park carefully until the cars white-walls
appear at the four corner’s of the night.
I am on a case, another Hollywood sex scandal.
I sit there smoking until dawn mists
swim into the valley.
Speeding squad cars blast past me;
the City Dicks are tough around here
and most are on the 'take.'
I let the engine idle wondering where
this all fits into a half-written plot?
“Lets move” I drawl to my suit rumpled self,
easing the rim of my fedora over weary eyes,
heading now to where flash-bulbs expose
what we do when the stars turn blue.
The TCM channel caught my eye
playing movies termed "film noir"
intriguing movies where someone lies
and theres a body lying on the floor,
The old black and white movie draws me in
with Bogie and Bacall or Stanwyck and MacMurray
murder mysteries with shadows and grins
where the villain is calculating and very nervy,
A love triangle where three is a crowd
the villains conscience is put on hold
where my rapt attention becomes aroused
seeing the poor victim lying lifeless and cold,
I want to scream watch out they have a gun!
as I'm transported into the movie scene
feeling like I should get up and run
helping the naive victim out of their bad dream,
Its always too late as I can't realistically help
but I know that the bad guy will eventually get caught
with a detective or third party gaining facts that will melt
the "amnesiac" villains story they haven't yet bought,
The villain sometimes ends up dying too
or sometimes getting "cuffed" going into jail
either way these films make me want to chew
not only on my popcorn but on my nails...
6-27-17
----the frost of fog licked
trees and tulips by the web
of a black widow----
under the moon and murky alleyways
i roam with rats the mean and rain-slicked streets
a private eye, taking whatever pays
i search for her, whose husbands bloody sheets...
paid me to find her and his rich receipts
with-in the fog was smoke like fog in air
from her short cigarette and sinful glare
the light from lamp poles blinked; our bullets blew
a man was dead from our brief love affair
and briefly bullets both inside us grew
Film Noir
They had to operate
remove the one
and from the other
take a nugget.
Later in the hall
they said they got it all.
They said how well
she’d be with rest.
Her first night home,
as we prepared for bed,
she turned to show me.
In my mind the cinema of fleet
but fecund years
ran through another time.
Donal Mahoney
The melody is haunting me
Black and white, an old TV
A darkened room, the smoke perfume
insults the sense of right and wrong
Elbows rest upon a bar
Heads are bent, to hide the scars
and troubled souls have found a throne
Some will find a well known home
in a shot-glass of a song
A clarinet has cried the blues
A secret lies with deep regret
Who cares that no one gives a rip?
It's just enough to face the night
Another place to roll the dice
And once again, when tears have dried
they'll leave this place
without a face
to walk away without a trace
leaving me to wonder who
has left me in this darkened room
alone
Written while listening to Billie Holiday
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