Still warm on the scarlet chaise: a silver pistol, <br />small enough to fit into a purse; <br />lethal enough to send a man to his reward. <br /> <br />Sprawled on the thick-piled royal blue carpet: <br />a man savoring his reward, <br />handsome, immaculately suited, dead. <br /> <br />The woman at the window: <br />relaxed, confidant, smiling, <br />flicks the ashes from a Lucky Strike <br />and watches the flickering neon sign <br />outside the sleazy motel. <br /> <br />Vacancy; VACANCY; vacancy; <br />VACANCY; vacancy; VACANCY; <br />That’s a laugh, <br />she thought, <br />eyes gazing vacantly.<br /><br />Sonny Rainshine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bow-to-film-noir/
