- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Clem Magnusson, Private Dick
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"Fuckin' A right!" said Clem
who doesn't know why he said it
after six fingers of Glenlivet
and two cans of tuna for breakfast.
At four a.m., radio's tuned
to farm reports from the Poconos
as he puts on his Vincent DePaul
suit to stake out a storefront church,
"not my idea of heaven
at $50 bucks an hour"
on behalf of a minister's wife
whose upfront felt like pennies
out of her kitchen cookie jar.
Dicks do living on the edge
of naugahyde booths in all night diners
with steamy windows when Lordy! Lordy!
out walks Reverend Witherspoon
who kisses goodnight, or rather good morning,
his honey before he waddles on home
where he may find Polaroid glossies
that will make him shit the bed,
but Clem well, he's sitting there thinking
a couple a hours 50 bucks per
ain't gonna get him Louise tonight,
but an invite for pie and coffee
at 6:00 a.m. maybe will.
- COMMENTS
Tzaraalmost 9 years agothat specialized in mystery fiction. So your poem really worked for me. Though, I think, you've got the hourly charge wrong. It's probably low for a contemporary PI novel, but apparently high (see http://www.payscale.com/research/US/Certification=Private_Investigator_License/Hourly_Rate) for the Real World.
Doesn't matter. A fun poem, gm.
tazz317almost 9 years ago#1 is the expense account #2 is his brains. TK U MLJ LV NV
greenmountaineeralmost 9 years agoAuthorYou're absolutely right, Mer: a good example of a small change making a difference. Thanks.
legerdemeralmost 9 years agodicks aren't generally the stuff of poetry but you've made Clem so. It's a gem of Raymond Chandler realism and gray pavements. The last stanza just clinches it for me.
One suggestion: consider replacing 'couple a hours' with 'coupla hours' - the contraction is fitting to your poem, and blends in better to my ear.
