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Picture Credits:
Night settles upon the city,
Where the soft rays of the moon
Mingle with lamppost lights,
Yellow haze falls, as the light of day
Gives way to a single shadow.
A neon light flickers here and there,
Beckoning a traveler to rest in a
Flop House, a seedy hotel.
There, it flickers again, as moonbeams
Spread to bathe the tall masses of brick
And steel.
From deserted asphalt and cobblestones
No echo, no footfalls. Deadly quiet!
There - an empty warehouse,
Alleys cluttered in clothes-lined poles,
Draped with menacing, ghostly forms.
Overflowing garbage cans,
Shutters drawn; doors bolted.
No darting, curious eyes to pierce the night.
Wait! A sudden roar from the distance comes.
A train clattering on the tracks above,
With silhouette casts cobweb patterns deep,
Wavering against the moonlit night,
As the silence is shattered.
The sky grows even darker, more unfriendly,
With black clouds gathering,
Then, a clap of thunder, companion to
The falling torrents of rain comes a chill.
Yes, the rain-slickened gutters, buildings
And streets, show sullen shape.
Familiar brickwork, rooftop images dancing against
The thunder and lightning...dripping in awash.
The lightning bursts again to drive off the
Shadows; for one moment...is seen -
A lonely figure struggling to hide in the darkness, To be invisible. Stiff and Unflappable.
There in the alley, set between these massive forms
This desperate heart lies hidden in the storm,
Unblinking, patient with
Anticipating eyes, awaits, clenched with
Thin lips and pinched nostrils, intense, and
Intent, with determined stare...awaits!
Safe from prying eyes, slats of window blinds
Closed tight, and those crazed eyes peering toward
The street, coy, conspiring, planning a foul deed.
Then, as a man might exhale, everso faint footsteps
Grow closer.
A tall figure appears, mounting the steps of slate.
Trench coat and fedora soaked and dripping wet.
Fumbles for his keys.
A muffled gunshot erupts. A scream!
A limp body falls dead to the stoop.
The night gives witness to darkened homicide.
Then, in a breath, heavy footfalls run past,
Up the block...faster, faster, they recede.
This spectre flees avoiding cast-iron lamppost lights.
Up, up, up the station stairs, through turnstiles,
Quickly goes this frantic form,
To the sanctuary of a coming train.
Hurry, hurry, to escape curious eyes.
No one sees!
Grim-faced police arrive, the coroner close behind.
The scene of onlookers come,
Surrounding, murmuring, heads shaking, necks Stretching, piercing eyes squinting, straining -
The task at hand - a case to solve -
A mystery to unveil.
A trench-coat'd shamus comes to find
All the clues washed away.
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