By Jack T. Marlowe
i don’t
remember
many of
my dreams
but a few
do
survive
the alarm
clock un-
censored:
remakes of
hollywood
noir, with
unknown
actors
trying to
assassinate
me
or
seduce
me
which might
deliver
the same
payoff
in
the
long run
but
even
through
a blurry
lens
there’s
nothing
more
memorable
or
moving
than
scenes
of
death
near-death
or
a well-
sculpted
woman
in
black
panties
which
works out
real well
for some-
one like
me
whose
subconscious
mostly
screens
films
in
black
and white
Clutching at Straws 