Excerpt for You Are a Good Girl, Dandelion & Other Prose by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

You are a Good Girl, Dandelion


Other Prose

J. Elk-Baptisté

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019

J. Elk-Baptisté

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You are a Good Girl, Dandelion


Other Prose


We could set you up

You could live in a glass box

Set high on a plinth

Over the town square

Where passersby can ogle your

Wares and comment

We’ll showcase you and

Within a week you’ll be


Ascend the ladder

And you’ll not know yourself

You’ll be one of us

Come on!

You have to be in it to know it’s real


Abernathy will tell you things

Will say he adores you

In fact loves you to pieces

Pledge his troth

Will turn somersaults

He cannot help it

A spell is upon him

He is smitten and

You are a good

Girl, Dandelion

Cat and Far

Nice of the cat

To devote a lifetime

To our company

Nonstop friend for years and years

With naught to show for it but rats and

Mum’s place on the couch

Why are so many stars so solid in build?

They’re built like brick dunnies

And you can look it up can’t you?

Which is rhetorical but yes I was asking

Does the world ever return to vulnerable

To delicate frail shy slim

You see now, Harry had enough long ago

Of her but stuck wasn’t he?

Committed and maybe should have been

Well before it was too late

Aaarrrgh–you can imagine the agony

His feeling of alone-ness

Schenectady is one of those names

Nantucket and Chattanooga and Chevy Chase

And Wrigly Field

And Hoboken and Boise Idaho and Massachusetts

God always favored Arcturus over Earth

Why do you suppose it is?


Was a chimney sweep in a previous life

Starved little kid half choking

Shoved up a hole in a wall

Coughing blood and told

To sharpen up or roast

Can see it now can’t you?

Right there

Shoved in your face

Under the nose

Like a nice hot breakfast your Worship?

Trouble is

Tight spots and tunnels to nowhere

Are going to block you and fog you

For thousands of years maybe

And who’s to blame?

God’s teeth!

Read it somewhere

In a comic book

Under the bed

In Gavin’s room

Gavin’s room

Hiding out

Page turning sounded loud

On a Sunday afternoon

By a pair of

Neatly aligned pink slippers

Those are not mine

Gavin said

And I believed him

Because I wanted to

Was a rocking horse in

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