Saturday, June 5, 2010

charlotte

We join Charlotte, our tragic heroine for this passage, as she begins to dance in front of her television to the tune of a commercial. “Have a very merry Christmas,” she sings along and repeats long after the commercial ends in a cigarette-ravaged voice with much vibrato. And she really means it, with her hands clutched at her chest in sincere good will. Her weight shifting from one foot to the other as she sways drunk beyond belief, Charlotte wishes you a truly wonderful Christmas. But lets not dwell on poor Charlotte, for she never stood a chance. Her determination this morning was something unstoppable, and there she lies now in classic film noir fashion, her lovely (if a little old) figure prostrate in a natural position, her hair dramatically draped over, and here comes the lettuce-green vomit with little white pills inside that will prevent her from ever taking another breath and us from calling her death graceful.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Pirates of the heart

The boy took the girl in his car to the place he knew lovers go. Her in his car under his gaze. She and her shy femininities exuding from her like vapor, surrounding them in the night. He thought to himself, how lucky is he to be here in the atmosphere of her love this night. Her mind beat against the inside of her skull. He took her hand. His content gaze out over the city and the stars through the windshield and her crazed animal mind not coming through her skin to him.


Little did the boy know the spirits that gathered outside his car conspired with the girl against him. They circled outside the car and saw the boy's innocent love-aspirations and what it was that he saw in the girl and regarded it like pirates of the heart. They swung open the door and pulled the girl out of the car. The boy tried to hold on but he really didn't stand a chance and the spirits carried her to where they wanted her and lifted her up and held her and did those things to her. More spirits held the boy down and made him watch. The girl whaling in the trance of the will of the spirits and the anguish of the boy like a very tragic faerie tale that night.


The girl looks back on the night later in life in the all's fair way that every woman looks back on the memories of her heartbreaks. The man who sits in the chair beside her's who was the boy in the story reaches over and takes hold of her hand. The woman's pretensions that a man can't understand and the story of her life like she wanted it. He holds her hand and they look out from their porch. The man sitting there more content than ever in the role he has played in her life and the woman's mind working hard on her next fantasy.