Poem #19: Sam Spade in the 21st Century

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I'm in my office late that night,
and as I'm watching the night settle over
my sordid, two-bit city, I get a call;
It's a lady in trouble.
what's the problem, ma'am?
Can you help? I have a virus
says she, a breathy voice on the other end.
Lady, this ain't no hospital, I answer,
but she's persistent.
No, a computer virus. I'm scared to even
touch the keyboard, and I have
poems to finish for my reading tomorrow,
o please help!
Calm down lady, says I, just
give me your address,
pour me a double shot and
I'll be there in five minutes.
It's only 10:30 in the evening
as I hang up.
The night is young
and a lady's in trouble.
I grab my hat,
check to make sure I've got smokes,
and say to myself
as I head off down the hall:
Man, I love this job.
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