Fedora on the rack....

obsolescence, left eye pressure
another night sprawled on the worn desk top
the pleasure of freedom and two fisted appeal
seeping away these last 40 years
in days past a woman would wake me
afraid, needing a stiff spine and a steady gun hand
I would've drawn my hands through my thick hair
and sleepily, squint-eyed assessed her, drank
a 12 hour old coffee and bourbon and eased
her fear with steel and gun-metal eyes
with the flip of cosmic switch
no femme fatales left and a bald pate
and numerous scars from the beatings
I used to relish as proof of alpha animal cred
a new tone covers the NY nightscape
like Tokyo and ant-like Yakuka with the one digit price
The city awakes pulling dead homeless and junkies
from her hair with a human bone comb
red with decade's blood
the good has just it's solitude
while the evil coalesces, joins
organized, long taken over
the dream of a bar in the Florida keys
and a new story for each customer
of the days when men were tungsten
and the world gave way to the sheer mass
of a leaden stare and and a 38
I'm leaving today despite the vows
that I would protect the poor souls
in this concrete monstrosity
the rules changed
old justice hanged and gave way
to the new gods of the city
of which I can't even concieve
dick to bartender, not a stretch
in the wretched cold that collected
bringing their own ice blue eyes
and consciences
a 38 snub nose a pea shooter
and this thin skin no match
for the modern evil and the empires
I reach for the fedora and my tickets
I'll serve boat drinks and take my place
as a character
with a story for every occasion
doling out umbrella drinks
to the others who have
fled this city and its' razor teeth