New York is Noir Again

Here somewhere between starry-eyed-star-struck first impression and the inevitable ruined dreams, as he tumbled falling for the dame in the Zorro hat buying something quickly stuffed into her tiny purse at Lampston’s, and who but an outsider trying to remake herself would dress in such an outfit? Acting out a fantasy, free at last!  Be what she always dreamed! In this small-town-free-past in the mad carnival urban setting.  But he was just the same really, in a cobalt blue shirt, color of aggression it was, oversize, overstarched collar protruding like the prow of a yacht from a dark ocean blue blazer. Only later did he realize the hopelessness of it all. “But what do I know?” she quietly asked “I’m just a little desert flower from Tucson.” Should have handed his wallet over to her on the spot and ran like the wind down 42nd without ever looking back. All before ending up slobbering, foaming, hunted and hopeless, driven mad by the quest for immediate love and riches by entitlement. He deserved a beautiful wife and a corner office. Didn’t quite navigate the labrynth maze of glass and steel, lost now, given up trying to figure it all out before returning home like the prodigal son-battered, bruised and humbled.  How a little misjudgement can backfire “I was just going to borrow it for a little while. Really. I was on my way to put it back.” Unraveled. He remembered her last words “Let’s have dinner tonight. But not together.” He tried to keep up appearances after the pink slip was dropped on his desk and the guard cut his plastic ID card right down the middle with no regard for the photograph he had the guy retake twice. Walked by a different guard out to the street with a cardboard box of his desk simple posessions, framed picture of his labrador and clever ceramic coffee mug in the shape of the blue and white diner paper cup “Happy to Serve You” it sez,with the Greek keystone designs. Fuck, Outmaneuvered by office rival number one. Again.

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