Detective Jimmy ‘The Florist’ McQuaide
sick of the whole, sad city bouquet
flips his signature clip-on shades
ironically salutes the gerberas on display
then steps outside for one last trade

The chief has given him 24hrs
to use his special ikebana powers
to crack the trade in artificial flowers
that’s flooding the city’s glitzy towers
with long-life, wipe-clean plastic bowers

He tracks a guy named Frank O’Hara
to a container ship in the city harbour
recently in from Puerto Vallarta
hotter than a tub of lava
stuffed full of synthetic hibiscus & guava

McQuaide dresses up as the ship’s physician
but immediately arouses the crew’s suspicion
when he wears the steth in the wrong position
and after some gunpoint exposition
gets neatly tied up with raffia and ribbon

Frank saunters cockily onto deck
a Hawaiin lei around his neck
Why – it’s McQuaide! The flower ‘tec!
What brings you out to this old wreck?
Still hanging on for that retirement check?

But McQuaide has worked his right leg free
and kicks O’Hara in the knee
who screams and falls back heavily
and grabs a lever frantically
which starts a self-destruct, luckily

McQuaide has time to dive overboard
and swim off quick to the nearby shore
when the whole ship rips with a terrible roar
and a thousand tonnes of flowers or more
are taken off the market for sure

Back at the precinct the chief’s not impressed
‘I’m sick of your bullshit, McQuaide!’ he says
‘What’s wrong with making a simple arrest?
Why’d’ya gotta make such a goddamn mess?’
‘I dunno,’ says McQuaide. ‘Take a wild guess’

Then he sighs and lays down his secateurs
his gold discount card at the stationers
says : ‘Gladioli to’ve known you, brother!
then as the furious Chief coughs and splutters
tapes a single paper rose to the precinct shutters