Hire Power

[good4somethingbum]

Hire PowerThe waterfront was foggy n atmosphericMoody n fulla nightmares like a Leonard Cohen lyricwhen harbor patrol shined a light on Marco under that pierGulls’d already got his eyes and wharf rats got his earsAnd when Charlie the Cheeze turned up in that Jersey landfillHis guts were a snake hole and his mouth was an anthill like steam from manhole coversWord was whistlin’ down the streetsEvery rival boss thought the old man was softAnd’d be easy to beatHe was a leader back in the dayNow he just watched Sophia Loren flicksOn his 60 foot yacht in the bayAll that summer up n comers were on that old foolLike bile on a belly fulla pasta fazoolThey were killing his soldiers n captainsThere were Skillsaws in bathtubsTrunks full of bones n bloodGrey matter on lobster bibs and breakfast napkinsCreepin’ slowly on his dealing bizRunnin’ whores out of hotels that were hisThese weren’t just college kidsMinoring in Mexican botanyBlowin’ their cash n smokin’ their stashTo break up mid-term monotonySo the old man hired an enforcer from SicilySat him down over a thin crust in Little ItalyThat new blood’s Fedora was an upside down bucket fulla sinMagnum in his coat gave his sharkskin suit a finHe kissed the old man’s handAnd then the worm began to turnTwo week’s time and sis-boom-bahThose grease balls n goombahs got burnedManny the miser lit a MarlboroAfter his evening soakFour in the back, one in the headHis soul left his chest mixed with smokeCops found headless John DoesIn dumpsters outside condosAnd ol’ Willie was building a log cabin in an ivory valleyWhen he heard screams and shots from downstairs in the alleyBy the time he parted the curtains for a peekStray cats were lickin’ the bullet hole in Peebo’s cheekOne mook’s front, fer movin’ junkWas an ink parlor for chicksCalled “Tatts for Tits”Some fisherman up the coastHauled in a shark in his netCut him open and found that mook’s torso n headBut neither the press or the law Could chase what nobody sawThat rookie was two bites into his Three MusketeersWhen he missed the shirt tail hangin’ from the trunkOf that stolen CavalierThere were body dumps all over the burroughsSo gruesome even seasoned MEs were chokin’ on their morning churrosAnd with all that gangland violenceGravediggers were pullin’ OTIn the Potter’s Field on Staten IslandOne by one the others droppedTill soon the old man was back on topHe had the enforcer out to his boatThey toasted the old countryand respect for the gangster’s codeAnd as the old man stood there on his deckEternity beckoned, for just a secondWhen he felt cold steel on back of his neckO his steaks had always been rareAnd his wine had always been redThere was blood in a flash, a thud and a splashHe saw a mermaidwith Sophia Loren’s headAs he sank to the bottomWeighted with chains and concreteThe enforcer called his cousinTo help him run the streets…©2007 Robert George