Whiskeyloo

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couchgrouch
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Whiskeyloo

Post by couchgrouch » Fri Jul 02, 2004 9:33 am

WhiskeylooPaulie ran the Whiskeyloo, as a front for his crewon the Quarter near Lafayette Placeit was a cover for the law, like a mask at Mardi-Gracan hide a pickpocket's facePaulie's gang gathered that night, the juke played Clifton Chenierold bottles were murky bayous, of cigarette butts and beerwhenever Paulie felt nervous, he got a twitch in his eyehe blinked and called Cheri the barmaid, for one more round of ryewas it fog off the river, that smelled like a phantom's perfumecos something was French-kissing shadows, that night in the backroomof Whiskeyloo, Whiskeyloowhere shared toasts are left in shardswith one last plan, one last standfor men with left-handed heartsCheri kissed Paul in his chair, while he dealt solitaireon a sticky tabletopif he just played it alone, took the score on his ownno one could tip the copshe knew if not for his lawyer, they'd have paid for that armored carhe still had burns on his forearm, from that detective's cigarPaulie didn't rat his partners, but he doubted the resthe knew they all suspected, vermin in their viper's nesthe said the robb'ry'd be risky, but ev'ryone voted to staycos hell just lures spirits, already on there wayfrom Whiskeyloo, Whiskeyloowhere shared dreams are left in shardswith one last plan, one last standfor men with left-handed heartsCheri's laugh and lemon curls, how Paulie loved that girlhe'd have her hand before longhe had some years on her...sure, but sometimes women go formen whose childish days are gonefor now he thought of Danny's habit, how he'd seen him scream and begwould he make their plan crumble, like veins in his arms and legswhat about old Sam the driver, did he roll and drop a dimehe knew what time'd end up doing, to an old man doing timethey were shallow as shadows, cos stolen money's paper thinthat night Paulie's eye was dancing, when they hit the cayenne windfrom Whiskeyloo, Whiskeyloowhere shared toasts are left in shardswith one last plan, one last standfor men with left-handed heartsPaulie escaped half alive, no one else survivedthe cops knew about it allit happened while starlight, stabbed the New Orleans nightlike pins through a voodoo dollsoon as Danny racked his shotgun, he took a round in the headSam took four in the stomach, then fell on the steering wheel deadPaul crawled back to his tavern, cos liquor'd always been loyalhe knew when he saw Cheri, her curls had bent his mortal coilrather than showing her badge, she gave Paulie a shot of ryethe solitaire hand on the table, watched her weep when death stilled his eyein Whiskeyloo, Whiskeyloowhere shared dreams are left in shardswith one last plan, one last standfor men with left-handed hearts(c)2004 Robert George

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