Archive | May, 2012

Love For Sale

29 May

Love For Sale

“She has been fashioned from the finest of materials. Her hair is that of a Duchess beheaded on the eve of her wedding seconds before consummation could be achieved. The expression on her face really says it all, doesn’t it? The arms are of course those of Petrushka snatched during the death of her incomparable swan. Although the torso is common stock the breasts are those of a Saint, I am not sure which one because they all merge together for me with their horrendously over the top and somewhat garish deaths. The only thing I remember for sure is that this was obviously not one who was pierced through the breast with an arrow. And finally the piece de resistance and what really makes my humble offering unique is what lies masked by her damask. Soft as a kitten, smooth as a silken oyster and yet lined with the razor-sharp dentate of those Amazonian hell fish. Lulled by the gentle cooing of the doves your enemy will truly be consumed by his passion.”

I studied the man as he digested my meaning. He did not look like the usual type interested in procuring the services of my Vionette. This one looked like he would have no problem keeping a woman satisfied or at least too terrified to do anything but pray for his lack of interest.

“May I?” The man gestured towards the short stiff round of embroidery that covered Vionette’s most charming point of interest.

“But of course.” I said. “Just…”

I was about to say to say ‘don’t get too close’ when I heard the whirring purr of those tiny teeth and knew that I had been too late.

Vionette did not even have the good grace to blush as the man writhed beneath her staring in horror to the gush at the end of his arm where his hand used to be.

I gave Vionette my sternest look.

“I am sorry my sweet but you know how much I hate it when someone points.” Vionette cooed.

I searched the man’s pockets for coins but found nothing but credit vouchers. I wished Vionette had at least held her temper until we’d been paid. That was the trouble with artists they cared more about their dignity than their pocketbooks

Well at least it wasn’t a total waste.  The man was strong and healthy and would keep my girls fed for weeks. I on the other hand would have to go hungry again.


The Remnant

21 May

The Remnant


When Ramone died Alice did her best to carry on. She got her hair done. Tried to get out, see friends. She painted, listened to music, read, bought a CD-Rom that guaranteed her the ability to speak Mandarin in just thirty days. She saw each new movie as soon as it came out and for the first time in her life she could actually choose her picks for the Academy Awards with confidence because she had seen them all even the foreign shorts. When her best friend Phyl had her baby she even agreed to be the godmother, this shocked the hell out of everyone who knew her because it was common knowledge that Alice liked children about as much as the Pope liked homosexuals. But that was beside the point; Alice was embracing life with her arms open wide and a beatific smile on her face. Well for almost a month anyway. And then she grabbed her favorite duvet cover threw it over the dining room table and moved in.


It didn’t take long for Viv to notice something was wrong because she was a really stellar girlfriend. And if truth be told she knew that it was just a matter of time before this ravenous hunger for life that Alice was experiencing would become anorexia. So when she came home that night and found all the lights off and her Siamese, Mick howling like it was the end of the world from the top of his cat tree, she immediately feared the worst. Taking a deep breath she prepared herself to find Alice soaking in a bath of her own blood, laid out like Camille in their bed or lying broken and small, looking like one of those macabre dolls that Alice collected, the ones that came in coffins. Therefore finding her set up like a Bedouin under the dinette set was actually a relief. And she decided to ignore this rather eccentric behavior and carry on as if everything was status quo.


Alice was trying to decide where to set up her laptop when she heard someone knocking on her roof. She knew it was Viv. She heard her come in but had decided to ignore her. After all Viv was a part of the world Alice had left behind after she had been left behind. She knew that Viv loved her but not as much as Ramone had. Nobody loved her as much as Ramone and she missed him so much it made her crazy. Everybody knew you only got one soul mate in life right? Alice’s was a sleek black cat with one patch of white at his throat and one just below his belly making him look like he was dressed for flamenco. So when the rapping continued Alice threw sanity to the wind and chose to believe that she what she was hearing were chunks of meteor sizzling with radioactivity and she prayed that her shields would hold.


Viv getting no response slid Alice’s dinner through what she assumed was Alice’s door, drew a chair up to the table and ate her meal in silence. It was not the best steak she had ever eaten. But then it could have been a lot worse considering the fact that Alice did all the cooking. Viv hoped that this tent thing was just a phase because she really didn’t think it was fair for her to work all day and then come home and have to make dinner. She enjoyed being a provider. She did not enjoy being a nurturer.  Although she very much enjoyed being nurtured especially since it was a totally new experience.

Alice was trying to decide where she was going to live now that she had started a new life. The choices were literally endless because here under the dining room table she was omnipotent. She was the Creatrix. All she had to do was imagine it and it was. Here time moved backwards and forwards at her whim. Here she was alone or surrounded by the friends she’d always dreamed of. She could get naked throw on a mock, mink coat and sip mint juleps with Tallulah Bankhead, smoke Gitanes and scream her existential angst with Sartre, Camus and any other philosopher that struck her fancy. She could watch the nine moons rise over a planet that she had painted into existence and then dance down a white marble staircase with Fred Astaire. But the best thing about being the Alpha and the Omega was that nothing had to die. So here in her snug, duvet heaven, Ramone was still alive.

Resurrecting him had not been easy. It had taken an incredible amount of concentration and she had needed to put in her ear plugs to drown out the sound of Viv asking her if she wanted things. But once Viv had gone to bed and the apartment had fallen silent, Alice was able to conjure a shadowy version of her soul mate and hear him purr. And with his near transparent arms wrapped around her neck, and his practically sheer head on her cheek, she had the first good sleep she’d had since his death.


16 May



Tommy says that once there was a sun that rose and sank in the sky just like the dead. Just like me. He also says there were giant ribbons of color that arced across the sky after it rained and so many stars in the black night sky that they made pictures. I cannot imagine it. Not any of it but especially not a black night sky and not the part about people.  Even though he shows me pictures I find it hard to believe that we ever looked like that.


Tommy is dead too only in a different way than me. Tommy says that once there was as much different colored flesh as there are ways to be dead. He says that once people used to hate each other because of it. He says they used to kill each other over it. I would never kill someone because of the way they looked. I only kill when I’m hungry.


Tommy tells me that once there was more than hunger and shelter. That once almost everyone had someone like he and I have each other. He says we are friends. Tommy says that once there was even love. Thinking about this makes my head hurt more than trying to imagine a black night sky blinking with random sized stark white lights. But he says he will show me pictures once he remembers where he put the books.


I do not understand how Tommy can lose things so easily when he never leaves The Library. I never lose anything and I hunt this entire city.


To be cont….

Fate. A piece inspired by Peggy Baker

7 May



She gave me my memories, concise on a small square of white paper. She handed me my heart wrapped in the bitter leaves of willful blindness. She was the one with the scissors.


I waited for her to cut. I waited for days, months, years. Decades have passed and still I wait, eyes focused like lasers on the thread of my life. The blades frozen above and below like the scream in my throat.


There is nothing I can bribe her with. Nothing I can say that will move her to mercy. She is unreachable. She is cruel. She is infinite. I, am the mote in her eye.