from the other side of the shades

i pull the shades down.
i can still smell the street,
i always do,
they way it calls me,
they way trouble bounces on my window.

as the light crawls out,
the fan slows down,
it goes from cool to noisy,
i look down at my friend on the table,
i always liked bourbons,
they stay quiet while my head bangs,
as i pour my "friend" on a piece o' glass,
a drop of sweat starts running,
cursed fan,
i should get it fixed,
once i get my missing-secretary fixed.

i stare at the dame across my desk,
she seems to enjoy the dark,
her body hides in a silouhette made of heaven,
i've seen the type,
body shapes air like a tuba in a concert,
eyes sharper than a gun massaging your face.

she asks me questions,
she already knows the answers,
her eyes play catch with mine,
words are trivial at this stage,
nobody's listening,
i decide to sip my second,
(or was it my third?)
and she makes her wild proposition,
a icy delivery late at night,
im up for the gig,
im always up.

she leaves in a hurry,
leaves me hanging,
all dames do,
i slowly put my coat back on,
got to find a secretary,
but i'll face those demons 'morrow,
tonight, i got ice.

(related: noir)