She lives in a time that the sun doesn’t shine;
It’s black and white like a moonlit night; it’s a 60’s time.
Her wide hips sway as she walks down the street.
The shoreline of her hair lifts into the breeze.
Gum clicks between her teeth as she chews on repeat,
And her high heels tap as she walks on the concrete.
She wears the ring of the rocketeer she calls a lover.
But she wears a price tag for all those cops undercover,
And a target on her back for those other gangsters.
Her name is Melinda Blackburn.
She’s a reporter working hard to be remembered.
Through the swine and the slime, she remained reserved,
Until she imagined her future and looked back with words.
Now she wants to make a change for the better.
Tonight, alone, she follows the police lights back home.
A body is outlined in chalk but the body is gone,
And none of the police knows what’s going on.
Melinda keeps nagging them with a pen in her ringed hand,
Demanding answers as the reporter and fiancee of the missing man.
Days go by, she’s still researching why
The killers left a blood-stained chalk line,