Slip Alley IX

Ollie’s blue cat
chews a rubber band,
Ollie sips his Scotch.

On his coffee table
lies the slip of paper from the train,
creased and square
once an origami crane.

He takes out a graphite pencil,
rubs, six words appear:
For sale: A coin, never used.
and two numbers underneath.
He thinks of Earnest Hemingway
and baby shoes.

4 11 2012

0444 444 444

The top appears to be a date,
Ollie smiles, the date aligns
with John Doe in the alley.

The second seems
to be an invitation,
Ollie dials the number.

A woman’s breathy voice
answers telling him
she’s been waiting
for his call, she’ll meet
him in the alley now,
at the cafe, he knows the one.

Ollie shrugs on
his Burberry coat and cap,
steps into the moonless night.
He stands on an empty street corner
waiting for a tram
meditating
on power line silhouettes
cutting up the sky.
He pulls his coat closer
against the biting wind.
Mournful streets lights shed
cool penumbras.

In the kitchen
Ollie’s cat pounces
on an errant mouse,
jade eyes gleam.

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6 thoughts on “Slip Alley IX

  1. I’m late in reading and commenting, but my fingernails are bitten to the quick here. Way to go filling us with suspense!!

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