His fedora, brim pulled low

above five o’clock shadow framed

in the up-turned collar of a shabby trench coat

made me giggle, even though the cleft

beneath that stubbled jaw triggered

a tiny flutter in my you-know-what.


He seemed too old for retro-chic

too macho to waste time

on  a flickering midnight screen’s

dark romantic dreams.

Still, any port in a storm – a girl

does what a girl’s got to do

so I sidled over, flashed a joint,

headed for the back door.


He followed like I knew he would

turned out to be a gent

didn’t Bogart, didn’t brag.


After my sob story

we got down to business.

He wants 3 C’s a day plus expenses

No can do.  We agree on two.


He’ll find my missing cockatoo

the ivory vase



Beneath the coat-

pinned against the lapel

of his pin-stripe suit?

A purple rose.


You gotta love it.






This entry was posted in Film, NaPoWriMo, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Noir-vu

  1. Tina Liu says:

    A very fun poem! Loved it 🙂
    ~ Tina

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