With all the swank jazz glamour swagger
of an age when integrity was cool, he
manfully squared his shoulders and strode
into a world of black and white, wrong
made right, to play the fool card
with one hand
while the other just rode.
The plot
knit together like broken bone,
all set, isolate and let rest
to groan and grow in pains
taking months compressed
into running time messed
with loose ends, knotted up
like a Gordian tourist attraction
and cut. Some test
for the hero of law. Proves
everyone guilty as hell himself,
then takes the fall
in coup de grace. As usual
his impunity proves
immovable.
Back in the day,
that act could play
ball.
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