What happened in that penthouse suite?—-Poem

His suits were ruined. he sat limp against a drawer, bullets in his chest.

Things got torn, and scattered coat hangers, shirts, also his soul.

No one saw the crime of fashion worn by the man leaving the building.

Handmade tailored suits destroyed! Everything was ironed too.

Funny that the victim was at the time dressed to kill, and not the other man.

The guest’s act of disrespect made the nervous host shriek loud.

Soon a neighbor knocked. He called up a crew of men, wearing the same thing.

Unstylish Investigation, unsuited for the night’s chaos.

His brother needed to buy a cheap black thing for his next funeral.