A bit of fun and a change of pace today from my usual, ponderous scribblings. This one's for Jerry.

Follow My Instincts
By John Herlihy

I have the habit of following my instincts wherever I go;
I never question their warnings from my head to my toe.
We are made up of three parts, body, mind and heart;
Pure instinct sows them together when they fall apart.
Sometimes people lie to my face as they try to set me up;
My instinct sees the lie in their eyes as clear as a buttercup.
What about those feelings of paranoia I have to deal with.
My instincts filter out any suspicion as it passes thru their sieve.

For more serious issues, I tuck my brass knuckles in my pocket;
My Colt Mustang .380 fits trimly into my boot as in a socket.
For good measure, if some hangdog bloke even looks my way;
I don’t want to be caught on my left foot with nothing to say.
Whenever I encounter a cool blade who tries to be frightening,
My stiletto slips into my hand like a shard of cold lightning.
Oh, one last thing just in case some feckless thief tries to take me on,
I have a special pocket sewed into my pants with a collapsible baton.

Meanwhile, I am just going to sit at the bar and have a smooth drink,
Stare off into the distance with nary a coherent thought to think.
The smoke of my cigarette sends calligraphic messages into the air,
I make no attempt to read them, but run my fingers through my hair.
I move away from the fellow next to me wearing an ill-fitting suit,
By the look on his face, my gut feeling tells me he’s a potential brute.
Like I said, I follow my instincts as I pass through many unsafe worlds.
Now who is the natural beauty over there with that head full of curls?