She’s over there
where the fat man and the small guy sit.
Shady lady in the nylon seams
with a bottle and the jaded look.
A dime store avatar for all that’s in disguise
and in your dreams.
The widow in the cocktail dress
trails her fur along the floor
smells of flowers but she’s a carnivore.
That’s her, and she goes by the name of Perfidia.
There’s no such thing as a free pink pussycat
in your bed. She’ll strip you clean, dance you round
and when she’s done
stamp her dainty footprint on your head.
Don’t stay to drink the coffee
just get out of there and run.
This is Shakey Town
and baby’s got a gun.
Death of Lauren Bacall
© Shadwell Smith.