Felique Dupré in the Haunted World

1.

Footsteps: an affair.

“You’re late.” says Felique.

“Ten minutes.” Marcy replies.

“I cannot kiss on an empty stomach.” Felique orders à la carte
and gazes fearfully into Marcy’s eyes.

“What bothers you my little bon-bon?”

“Nothing, Mon cher. Try these snails.”

Yet the fear remains…

“Oh Marcy!” Felique feels suddenly silly, “Will I die if I make
love to you?”

Marcy giggles, “Only If you forget to breath!”

Tragedy replaces the fear in Felique’s eyes . “Breathing reminds me
of my mother.”

“Is your Mother still alive, dear Felique?”

“I was ten. Mother chased some wild geese and drowned in the Seine. This is why my love for you is so painful. Everything reminds me of Mother, which makes me cry. Oh my poor stupid Mother!”

2.

Felique sobbed as they hopped the E Train for Harlem; she sobbed for
her poor Mother.

Fellique turned to Marcy, her face as grey as the Moon.

“I’m a troubled woman.”

“Lamb.” Marcy replied.

“I do nothing but need.”

“Lamb.” Marcy repeated.

“Have I told you of my Mother?” Felique asked.

Marcy’s head throbbed with love; she gripped Felique’s shoulders: “Did your Mother drink?”

“Wine…White.” Felique replied.

“Alcohol has wrecked your life!”

Felique offers a dry cackle: “Ah, that it was that simple my wise, merciful,
long-suffering woman. She said she loved me.”

Marcy was strong yet gentle: “Denial! Make love to me now!”

“In the road?”

“Nothing sullies those who love!”

“Not even history?”

“Lamb.”

3.

What it is about love? As if a conquered people had gathered to rewrite history.

Felique moves with the purity of a child who spies a new perception: all mothers are one Mother and the World is one big Mother

Hot tears dribble onto Marcy’s mound, whose love expels the ghost of Felique’s affliction.

“O! Que j’aille à’ la mer,” sighs Felique.

A digital photograph of an avatar that represents a young woman named Felique Dupré in a virtual Manhattan
Felique Dupré in the Haunted World

 

To be continued…

(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

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Trina: A Slice of Death

Trina chats with a snake in the garden.

The snake curls up on Trina’s lap: “What if I die and never
come back?”

Trina replies: “I saw a slice of death, once. When I got to
heaven flash bulbs went off and I heard a chorus of angels
go ooooh.”

“Then what?”

“I saw lots of homosexuals: they danced and had sex and made
everyone jealous.”

“Then what?”

“Then, I passed through long tube and came out here!” Trina
smiles at the memory.

The snake looks up with concern: “Is that what’ll happen to me?”

“I don’t know.” Trina pulls out a notebook. “God doesn’t like you.”

“What are you doing?” asks the snake.

“I’m writing a poem.” Trina replies.

“What’ll you do with it?” The snake slithers up and onto the notebook.

“Sell it to Proctor and Gamble, silly!”

The snake drops from the notebook to the grass. “Have you given much thought to space?” he asks.

“Not in a million years.” Trina replies.

Then she sighs and writes her rhyme:

I was feelin’ kinda shitty
really small and itty bitty
garden snakes talked and
my lovers all walked
but at least
I was still very
pretty.

(c)Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Trina: A little Nick Nack at the Bar

Trina wants to know more about plant life.

She wants to watch the Hula boys dance.

A small plane drifts through the sky.

Trina thinks about the day she met Roger.

They were in an airport in New York and they fell onto love.

Now she lives in Hawaii.

Roger blew kisses to her as she boarded the plane.

“Oh why do I always fall into love just before I move?” she sighs.

Palm fronds clatter in the Plumeria scented breeze.

Trina writes:

“Roger made meat for me in the stockyards and in my love for him I wore the talisman of a tiger’s tooth. Waikiki is an excellent place to miss the unknown.

A group of tourists from Oregon mingles with a group of tourists from Uganda.

An interesting crotch catches her gaze and she looks up.

Ricardo Montalbán! She knows him from YouTube! How fabulous!

“Hi…I’m Trina.” she blushes.

“Hello,” Ricardo Montalbán replies. “I am a child of the Universe and I work
in a bank.”

Trina giggles with joy. “Then you can afford to be here! What’s your name?”

“Ricardo Montalbán!”

Trina’s right eyebrow rises like the hem of a skirt. “Hawaii is so romantic, don’t you think?”

Ricardo Montalbán gives Trina and everyone else who’s watching a great big smile.

“It’s like a fan-tasy island!” he replies,”Come; let’s have a little Nick Nack at the bar!”

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved

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Trina: The Plot

It was then I realized Roy had murdered his first wife and cared
nothing for his son, Little Jimmy.

I strolled with little Jimmy to the New Haven Green and asked if
he wanted a new Mommy.

“N-Not if Daddy kills her!” he replied.

It was then I thought of cigarettes and contrived a plan.

I married Roy and slowly introduced him to cigarettes.

He smoked a carton a day by our first anniversary.

One day, twenty years later, Little Jimmy returned from Yale.

Roy wheezed as I lit his cigarette.

“Trina!” Roy gasped, “You whore!”

“Shut-up,” I snapped. “Here! I’ll break off the filter!”

“Muthuh!” cried Jimmy, “Leave Fathuh alone or I’ll report you to the Surgeon General!”

“You and what lobby?” I sneered.

However, I was nervous and hastily swallowed the lit evidence.

I asked Jimmy what he had learned at Yale that day.

“Schematics,” he replied.

“Liar…” I grinned. “You were cruising the men’s room in the library.  I slipped into one of your Father’s jackets and wore his aftershave.

I saw who you did in the stalls vile boy!”

Roy chortled and slid face first into his ashtray.

I held a mirror to his lips and caught the ashes of his last breath…

(C) Rob Goldstein 1986-2017 All Rights Reserved