STRIKING IT LUCKY

Here's a piece of verse from the Noir sequence that a wrote a couple of years ago, partly as a homage to the 'B-Movies' of my youth and partly to help dispel a bout of writers' block which was making any creative work challenging.
It's one of a couple of dozen rhyming poems, on the theme of gangsters, dames, cigarettes and whiskey, that I wrote quickly over a period of a few weeks.
By switching style and subject matter from what I was accustomed to, I had enormous fun and rediscovered my hunger for writing.

LUCKY STRIKE

I get in, swallowing my pride.
Where to? I ask her and she smiles.
Be cool, Cool Guy: gimme a light.
She inhales deep then off we glide.
The dame’s in charge, somehow it riles:
gals driving guys just ain’t polite,

but she’s like no dame that I’ve met:
drives like a guy, acts smart and tough.
I talk, she drives; she talks, I smoke
a Lucky Strike: great cigarette.
I’ve struck it lucky, sure enough:
the gal, the money, at a stroke.