If you’re really wild at heart

There are nine clues

Beyond the three flights of stairs

Without any rails,

Run up!

And the black sun never sets

On us

Stack up our history

Weird on top

And deal it out.

Run out!

After the cheaters

With wine up their sleeves

And grease on their beards

Who have stolen our fortune

And we have to win it all back.

Run down

To the corner store

And get us a pint of gold warmth,

In case we run out of love

And fail to convince

The spectacle hunters.

Run off!

From my body

Battered and bandaged in a full figure eight.

The nine clues

To the classic whodunit

Circa nineteen twenty,

Plus change.