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Excerpt for Prose From The Girl on the Bell-tower Stairs by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Prose from The Girl on the Bell-tower Stairs


J. Elk-Baptisté



Smashwords Edition


Copyright 2019


J. Elk-Baptisté

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Prose from The Girl on the Bell-tower Stairs



After they shoot you


When the party is over

They will clean out your pockets

Take everything of worth

They will scrape out memories

Your dignity

Pride

They will sharpen blades

And there’s no point crying

Where are the horses?

The horses are taken!

The horses are gone!


Blind women are shaken

Knowing they’re forsaken

But safe as they are for now

Keeping to promises

Honoring fine words

Soft spoken in darkness before dawn


After they shoot you

You won’t feel a thing.


Maret


They are here on the street

Aren’t they?

They look normal and it’s scary

Because they are


There are so many of them

And that’s the point

You cannot avoid them

They are a disease


But keep it under your hat

Under your breathe because

They are not harmless

They seem benevolent but it‘s a lie


They’ve lain dormant and now

You must know the more they smile

The more serious the intent

Harm is on their minds


But go ahead and call me

Paranoid if you feel it necessary

I won’t mind your huff and puff

Won’t hold it against you


Hard to believe anything

These days

Isn’t it?

And yes—I do get it


You’re wondering

Are you one of them?

You’ve not entertained

The possibility before now


Like me

You are suspicious by nature

But it’s very confusing

And perhaps you are some kind of loony?


Jiggerypokery … skulduggery

Is everywhere

Just remember

Maret, I am ever a friend



Spin-wheeler


Should those appreciative of impasto

Feel wronged when a dealer determines

Fashion is change—change is on the way and we are moving forward to smoother times.

Periods of blue, of pink, have had their day.

Expressionism or any roughneck artsy notion involving lumps or scratches

Has had time in the sun.

Lumpy bumpy is out. The sort of thing we all knew could not hold on forever


Note to purveyors of the finer things: Retrain your clients—be jolly quick!



Mice


Mice come and they go.

They are born.

They live their little lives.

They die.


And their lives are not so little.

Not, to them.



Jimbo


It’s not a real road block.

It’s the neighbors,

Having fun

And so…


Make a tight left here Bennie!

And don’t catastrophise--it’s the weekend and

Some kid’s let his rabbits out or they’ve escaped.

It’s all it is


Detour across the old guy’s lawn

—is this genuine blue grass or what?

Watch out for the old lady!

Veer round the cabana and skirt by the pool


Head for the back wall

And now floor it Bennie!

We will ram that wall and in the following instant,

Will enter an alternate universe—we’ll be totally free!


Rocket


Ten minutes spent in Grandma Lucy’s outhouse was all it took

For Justine to want to change her name

Move to Montana and spend her time looking at trees

If she ever got bored she would buy a new wig and learn to Rocket

It was just like her cousin Bullwinkle said

They would organize marathons and dance themselves giddy for days

And days on end

What better dream might there be?


Bull could not wait to take her by the hand.

He’d lead her out onto those boards—they’d trip the light fantastic, he said.

And she would make him proud, he said, but Justine gave him a curious look

Meaning……….what did he mean by tripping?

Or maybe, what was meant by fantastic?

They were cousins and so what was meant by any of it?

She would ask Grandma but Justine suspected the old lady would not play


Grandma Lucy would rather Rocket

She will Rocket…………….and Rocket!

She will not stop—she will


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