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Femme Fatale

Poetry By: boneman

A short poem inspired by the opening narration of a Film Noir detective..... A simple scene set in a all night bar. Imagine the narrator in a long coat, hat and a ciggarette permantly attached to his hand, in the other one a shot of whiskey. Eyes red from lack of sleep and the effects of the whiskey.

All in glorious monochrome except for the Femme Fatale calling to him...........

Submitted:Sep 19, 2007    Reads: 966    Comments: 8    Likes: 6   

Femme Fatale

With eyes shot through with whiskey

She looked at me

In a late night bar room

on a wet night

The rain poured down outside

The steam rose from the subway

As the late night buses groaned

Crawling through the fog

The desperate eyes of the city

Were encased in her head

OH that's just the whiskey talkin

Just a soul lost and alone

Like a scene from a Bogart movie

In grainy monochrome

The Femme Fatale looked at me

As her finger circled her glass

I knew she'd be no good

I Knew she'd let me down

I knew I'd walk out on her

And that I'd regret forever

Femme fatale

In grainy black and white

Femme Fatale

With eyes so dark

The barman wipes glasses

As he swats the barflies

The hustlers play pool

The losers get stoned

Oh yeah, the losers

Get a dozen for a cent

Three shots for a dollar

Bourbon and late nights

They hang around

Fuelled by whiskey

Waiting for their Femme Fatale

As they mourn their last

She lights a lucky

Dropping the match on the bar

She blows out a plume of smoke

And calls me with whiskey eyes

The dawn is slowly breaking

As the night crawls painfuly away

The barflies melt into the shadows

The losers return to the streets

Femme Fatale floats by

And runs her fingers through my hair

And is gone into the dawn

All of this I have seen

Through the filter

of a shot glass

Boneman 1996/2007


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