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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On This Harvest Moon

“Harvest Moon” from ‘Unplugged’ by Neil Young
Released: 1993. Track 9.

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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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Born Into a Carnival of Souls

Here are a few words I’ve seen scrawled in the alleys of San Francisco’s
Mission District:

We can’t know what we won’t comprehend.

We can’t stop the damage we won’t believe we cause.

These are the crazies, the dregs of the earth, the losers, and every other demeaning and dismissive word used to dismiss the powerless who suffer
the worst of the GOP’s abuses of power.

These people can’t afford to vote their conscience because they’re dying from the lousy choices of people who can.

I saw this scrawled on a wall in late 2016: Why do u want 2 Kill me?

That’s a damned good question.

A mind that ain’t inquisitive really doesn’t got
shit to live for if you can’t explore the
realms of thought you ought not test lest
you be chomped up, like a pop rock, stopped for a
bead from the weed lady, thought it was the bomb
Really wasn’t nuttin but a bag of strong palms

A human ain’t a human if he doesn’t make mistakes
And the name of this song is Swan Lake

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