I feel like Mike Hammer after the third or <br />fourth attack by a gunman in one day, I <br />feel all fatigued and evil, finding the noise <br />in my downtown Chicago just too much; <br />I need the care of an electrifying beauty <br />to restore me to my macho bravery <br /> <br />I want to solve this crime so I can reach <br />the last page and take a momentary <br />break before the next attacker come <br />again, I want to feel the joy of seeing <br />how the criminal pointing his gun at me <br />is gunned down himself by the hair-trigger <br /> <br />Rifle of the skeleton who had been killed <br />by him thirty years ago, then turn to Velda, <br />my life’s love, and show her where is <br />paradise… <br /> <br />Mickey Spillane “The Snake”<br /><br />Robert Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/feeling-like-mike-hammer/
