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Picture Credits:
Hands down, he was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen
Slightly dimpled smile, flashing eyes that set the tempo
Miles higher than a flying kite, downing uppers, ‘phetamines
Was it truth or was it lies, his life and time with Interpol
“ I was just a young boy, innocent lad of seventeen
approached and offered a position by the local chief, McCole
he said I was a natural; suavely cultured mimic, with moves like Balachine
paid my dues by pushing bureaucratic papers, sitting in my cubbyhole
My first assignment was to apprehend the burglar, known as Augustine
He liked to play quadrille; 4-player card-game, 40 cards, major bankroll
His drink of choice, Mexican pulque, mixed with coffee, strong caffeine
Rap sheet longer than the San Bernardo River, north to south its water-flow
Second player on the list, flamboyant Major Wilson, lived near Aberdeen
Prosecuted many times, but escaped with legal loopholes
Rustling cattle, running guns, illegal magnums and machine
Not a nice bone in his body, prone to purloin, steal your very soul
Latin Louie, femme fatale impersonator, cabaret name Lurleen
Joined us as the third of four, dressed to the hilt, diamonds and minkstole
He was a Vegas hitman, never left a fingerprint at any crime scene
Just a lover’s ruby kiss, sign of his boss, the dreaded Oriole
Unflappable undercover, I assumed the role of art-world forger, Sol Levine
Taking a leisured rest from a showing down in Acapulco
Known as a perfectionist, impeccable taste, upper class sheen
Wouldn’t settle for second best, I’d kill, then set my arms akimbo
Entrance fee ten thousand dollars, served to sweeten kitty, strictly all routine
Tricks and bidding started, counter-clockwise, each kept their self-control
Until the call came for refreshments; the butler brought us Ovaltine
Louie took one choking sip. ‘He’s not the butler, but a well-placed mole!’
Bullets flying free, blue-plate steel and smoking guns no longer quarantined
Mangled flesh and gooey blood, gangster’s dead-end casserole
The only man left standing stole their tainted money, left the grisly scene! ”
He tapped his glass. “ Drinks are on the house, finest of your Bordeaux! ”
We sat there in bright candle-light, in that one-horse town canteen
He took the first of many bows while patrons clapped, yelled their bravos
International headlines in the making, I cuffed his wrists with silver-glean
“ So very pleased to meet you, Sol Levine; I’m the girl from Metropol. ”
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