Dectective noir story(poems 6, 7 & 8)

His kitten had returned with her map shined
 Scraped off her Mascara like before bed
 Set to go after being wined and dined
 No lipstick, her lips naturally red

 I know age is less then twenty one years
 Not a line or a trace of baby fat
 She looked ageless to me, through many beers
 The apple that enticed Adam at that

 The fair Helen, played like dice in the myths
 She took my hand and said she was Liela
 Stunned I said “I'm a Smith” “of the blacksmiths”
She teased, eyes a gold, rimmed with Fuchsia

 Shone with the knowledge of history swarmth
 As she retrieved her hand but not it's warmth

 Front window of limo, John ducked his head
“My body's jealous of my hand, Bimbo
 She said as she kissed my lips, her cheeks red
 Swear on Mother's grave, she did the limbo

 Vanishing into the boiler's darkness
 John followed, someone was pulling his belt
 I was left standing in streetlight's starkness
 The Limo was not campus bound I felt

 Seemed we'd be in touch, but John or the skirt?
 I walked off with a large sum in my pocket
 And with warmth to my core, a heart long hurt
 Made me reach down and caress the locket

 Old regrets and memories of a face
 Can't afford to keep it in a safe place

 I started figuring how to not spend
 Didn't want to attract any four flushers
 Common thieves, or worse yet creditors friend
 Perhaps some day I'll have some oil-gushers

 Spread dough around like butter, but not yet
 I can pay my landlords they'll tell no one
 For the same reasons that I have, you bet
 My office owner was not out for fun

 He gave me a new key, sneered “you want change?”
But thought I was the butter and egg man
 I put it to future days, his smile strange
 Afraid something wrong gave the room a scan

 All okay. Always thought he was a snob
 Smile he never used, not part of the job