The detective’s tired of unraveling
mysteries. He can quit the quick
talk—done with that femme fatal
flirty-bird routine. He’s had enough

slipped mickeys to bring down Fatty
Arbuckle. He’s sick of toothpick
smiling stoolies jawing the bone
of blackmail, meat of murder.

He can do without the no-tell motels
with no one to tell but the fug
and the neon outside making love
to the shadows pocketing his face.

And as for the porkpie hat?
He’s alright; he can stay blowing
streetlamp jazz for the moths.
But what the gumshoe really wants

is to give the silver screen the slip,
look into a mirror and see more
than double indemnity. Why not tail
the blonde in the back row

back to her place? He loves the way
she misses her mouth with her popcorn.
With no one yelling Cut, or Take two,
he could stake out her speakeasy heart,

shake it down and flip the tables.
He and the girl could go into business,
their love, the hottest Nightclub in town.
It’ll be known as The Boogaloo.


# # #

Film Noir by Joshua Michael Stewart
originally published January 20, 2010



Joshua Michael Stewart's poems have been published in Massachusetts Review, Rattle, Georgetown Review, William and Mary Review, Flint Hills Review, Pedestal Magazine, Evansville Review and Worcester Review. His chapbook Vintage Gray is available online.

For more of Joshua's work,
visit his Big Pulp author page


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