Sunday, August 14, 2011

It Came to Him in a Dream

“It came to him in a dream!”
The urgent, rumbling voice intones,
architectural letters scroll the screen—
          Beckon the Night.

This gift of Morpheus
sticking, as almost nothing ever does,
when brought bolt upright
by an insistent alarm.

I’ll need a double shot
of Dashiell Hammett for this,
pulled from the second desk draw
next to the snub nose
poured into a greasy tumbler.

And a dame, gotta have a dame,
ash blonde and weeping
wreathed in Herbert Tareyton garlands.

A snap brim hat and trench coat,
’41 Ford Coupe headlights
to glimmer on wet pavement,
a bluesy cornet riff.

What else ya’ gonna do with
          Beckon  the Night?
Write a goddam fairy tale?

Patrick Murfin

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