Mr. Curry was from Philly way.
He thought he was something,
Having the keys to the Soloman Offices
Over on Walnut Street.
He loved telling people
Just how important he thought he was.
She heard his talk
And put her curves to work
Getting him talking more.
She convinced him to show off
His desk downtown.
Off they went in his boat shaped car.
He poured them drinks and kept bragging
Right up until the point
Where she clocked him with the bottle
And her boyfriend beat him to death.
They rifled through his stuff, taking the valuables,
And sailed away in his car.
The widow, Mrs. Curry, claimed clairvoyance
Had allowed her to foresee
Her husband’s ghastly demise,
But she was not overly upset
That her self promoting husband
Died violently in her dream.
Her husband’s death had been ordained
In a way she thought appropriate
Considering she had heard enough of
All his talk over the years.
Long ago, she had decided he was not
Really that important to her.