All right, Marlowe, --- You've been sapped, shot at, and filled full of dope
until you're crazier than two waltzing mice. --- Now let's see you do something tough --- --- Raymond Chandler, Farewaell, My Lovely
Each morning he pauses
Between the pulling up of one sock
And the pulling up of the other
To focus on the two waltzing mice
Who get crazier every day,
Just as he hurts a little more
From the beatings that are part of the job,
But he would rather have the beatings
Than give yp the right to insult
The rich who are the only ones who can
Pay him to find out as much of
The truth as can be found out;
He is a fantasy of integrity
And, thus, alone in the real world,
Not settling down to everyday peril
With an always dangerous female,
For a serial adventurer must
Go it alone except for a
Tired and compromised cop who
Gives him fourty-eight hours to
Solve the mess, which he will,
For this is what we want of him,
Even when the truth is bitter
as it always is, with no relief
But buying himself a drink
From the office bottle and watching
The door through which someone
Will come waving a gun;
And though the waltzing mice
Never get anywhere, we envy him.
