Slip Alley X

Sveta sits alone
in her apartment
lights a jasmine scented candle,
pulls the curtains tight
against the patch of moonless night,
shadows double on the walls.


A woman with porcelain pink cheeks,
kabuki eyes and rosebud lips
taps along the alley
in grey stiletto boots
affecting nonchalance.

She spots a new stencil
on the red brick walls.
It’s of two cats smoking pipes,
Magritte springs
to mind on velvet paws.
Who put it there, she wonders.
Her heart is racing.

At night the light outside the cafe
hangs like a peach.

She enters,
finds a table in corner,
drapes her coat and Prada bag
across a chair.
The waiter with crystal studded ears
takes her order;
two expressos,
one Scotch and a glass of water.

She looks expectantly
towards the door. A man enters
right on cue.

“Hello Greta.”
Ollie fiddles with his coat lapel
and sits.


Lounging on her umber couch,
Sveta starts to type.

7 thoughts on “Slip Alley X

  1. Sveta, Greta, Ollie…ya’ got me comin’ and goin’ What next O, noir poet? This is really wonderful…the whole concept!!

Please leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s