Sorry, Moose.
She played you for
a sap. She got Amthor
to pump me full of dope
so I wouldn’t leak her
secret. You big lug.
You had to press the
issue, didn’t you?
It wasn’t your fault.
The blood is
on her hands. And
it won’t wash
off with lye. Her
lies died with
her. Unfortunely,
you did too.
This poem was inspired by the 1944 motion picture “Murder, My Sweet.” The movie is an adaptation of the novel “Farewell, My Lovely” by Raymond Chandler.
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