Wednesday, April 06, 2016
NEW! two short fictions by Joanna Ruocco
It is good to rob a pocketbook. It is good to rob a dog. It is good to rob copper. The copper is in the walls of the house. The dog is between the dog-gates in the hall. The pocketbook is on top of the piano bench. Do not try to rob a piano alone. Yes, a canoe, a canoe rob alone. Rob a piano with friends who wear t-shirts. Piano movers wear t-shirts. Piano robbers are unheard of. If you have robbed jodhpurs the racehorse is yours. Rob the long horse to place. Do you have a plane? It is good to rob a plane. You can fill the cargo hold with comestibles. You can ransom the dog. You can ride the horse through the surf, bareback, with your hands in its mane. Let it stud in the sea cave with whatever mammal it desires. The swiftest manatees will be born. They will slip between the bars of the gridded globe.
The Mayan Calendar
Mrs. R is looking for Mr. R. Mr. R is in the bedroom touching his toes. There you are, says Mrs. R. In the bedroom. Later Mr. R finds Mrs. R in the room they call the blue room. Once it had a blue carpet. What are you doing, says Mr. R. They each visit a bathroom. Mr. R finishes first. Mrs. R follows Mr. R to the kitchen. She pours leftover coffee from the coffeepot into a jar. Mr. R leaves the kitchen. When he returns he finds Mrs. R in the kitchen. You’re still here, says Mr. R. There are no windows in the kitchen. Mr. R looks into the refrigerator. He shuts the refrigerator door. Mrs. R looks into the refrigerator. Are you blind, says Mrs. R. She shuts the refrigerator door. Mr. R visits the bathroom he visited before. He finds Mrs. R in the bedroom. Where’d you go, says Mr. R. He has to cross her side of the room to get to his side of the room. Mrs. R is lying down on her bed. Mr. R lies down on his bed. They share a chocolate bar from Mrs. R’s sock drawer. Mrs. R leaves the bedroom. She comes back with two mugs of coffee. You’re welcome, says Mrs. R. Mr. R takes his coffee. They drink coffee. Mr. R falls asleep. When he wakes up, it’s just as dark. He feels in Mrs. R’s bed. You are there, says Mr. R. Aren’t you?
Posted by Verse at 1:00 AM