Capilliary Locomotion (Detectives) ~ Remedios Varo
Evening delivers: Sunset façade, gleaming gold to be eclipsed by encroaching shadow from opposite building as windows illuminate yellow without soundtrack from lives internal.
Silence roars engine interruptus; tyres squeal in protest of braking foot in shiny shoe, fingers clench on steering wheel and batons blue-black bared.
Vehicle white, blue lights strobe, pulls to curb-side cracked and expels eight legs in black-suit; shiny shoes pound pavement; pink fist portal pounds; a precursor to splinters, crack and imploding door.
Hella exits via window, up to rooftop, sneakers white crunch precipice to parapet, apex to gully where rain has gathered to grow moss for sneaker slip leaving green smear on track-suit leg.
Crooked smile sliver of crescent moon cuts through the night without casting any light on the proceeding pursuit across silhouette skyline.
Hella’s breath comes in rasps, sawdust clouds from lungs unused to exertion after months of cigarettes and seclusion in safe-house sanctuary, jigsaws and mouldy paperbacks consumed from cover to cover, missing pieces mourned, confined to mental exercise; an unhealthy diet for a body in need of (f)light.
Three shiny-shoed Keystones tumble down the first roof decline, leaving one shiny shoe to describe an arc over the parapet; a distressed call of loss and a jumble of limbs from colleague number four.
Whistles blow.
Down below manacles await in fists of moustachioed plainclothes; Hella’s no match for the double-pronged trap.
Morning delivers: Tweed flanked in flash-bulb glare, her pupils black as buttons, cuffed wrists raised; the puerile press reassures the complacent that justice has been served.
Silence roars engine interruptus; tyres squeal in protest of braking foot in shiny shoe, fingers clench on steering wheel and batons blue-black bared.
Vehicle white, blue lights strobe, pulls to curb-side cracked and expels eight legs in black-suit; shiny shoes pound pavement; pink fist portal pounds; a precursor to splinters, crack and imploding door.
Hella exits via window, up to rooftop, sneakers white crunch precipice to parapet, apex to gully where rain has gathered to grow moss for sneaker slip leaving green smear on track-suit leg.
Crooked smile sliver of crescent moon cuts through the night without casting any light on the proceeding pursuit across silhouette skyline.
Hella’s breath comes in rasps, sawdust clouds from lungs unused to exertion after months of cigarettes and seclusion in safe-house sanctuary, jigsaws and mouldy paperbacks consumed from cover to cover, missing pieces mourned, confined to mental exercise; an unhealthy diet for a body in need of (f)light.
Three shiny-shoed Keystones tumble down the first roof decline, leaving one shiny shoe to describe an arc over the parapet; a distressed call of loss and a jumble of limbs from colleague number four.
Whistles blow.
Down below manacles await in fists of moustachioed plainclothes; Hella’s no match for the double-pronged trap.
Morning delivers: Tweed flanked in flash-bulb glare, her pupils black as buttons, cuffed wrists raised; the puerile press reassures the complacent that justice has been served.
Tales for an attention deficit world
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