a hard-boiled detective
would describe me all gum-shoe mickey spillane
as a serial passion killer
beneath a slow moving ceiling fan
swaying to a street corner saxophone
smoke unfurling through suspicious window shades
into a neon-lit city of perpetual night
feet propped on his overworked desk
waxing how this dish
she takes a powder
varies her modus operandi
jealousy mistrust stubborn convictions
yet what is unquestionably hers
are the exit wounds
she leaves on the guy