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The Roberta Murders {an Interview}

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Godlike Guru

Joined: 22 Nov 2005
Posts: 2595
Location: Westwego LA
Reputation: 4264.9Reputation: 4264.9Reputation: 4264.9Reputation: 4264.9
votes: 51
Currently Reading: American Archery by Robert P Elmer; How the Post Office Created America by Winifred Gallagher

PostPosted: Tuesday, 09 September 2014, 10:27 AM    Post subject: The Roberta Murders {an Interview} Reply with quote

Gazing through windows
windows of bullet-proof plexi-
glass barred on the other side
I sit in my cell quiet, it does no good to yell

It is spring, the world is waking
Yes! waking my latest victim.
I call her Ronda, I don't know her given name
She wouldn't tell so I sit quite in my cell.

I recall Roberta, she was the first.
Yes, she was the first
yellow hair, brown eyes, and a figure
a figure... she died for.

Then Rowan, sweet girl Rowan, red head
as I recall, green eyes that switched to gray
and back to green I liked the gray better.
But she was stubborn she taunted me, kept them green.

They're open, I made sure they were opened
and that they were gray and stayed that way
Funny how she just sat there, her neck broken
eyes wide and that ghastly smile that's how they found her.

Of course Rebecca now there was a woman!
Almost but not quite a Greek Goddess
When she smiled her teeth were like...
pearls would be cliché, they were more

more like unfired bisque, her eyes were the color
the color of the palest morning blue reflected
from an outdoor chlorinated pool. That's how they found her
floating belly-up eyes open beneath a wash of pale blue water.

There was to be another, a tiny little woman
Her eyes too are blue, a violet tinged blue.
She's like a doll, a petite lady, almost but not childsized.
I don't harm children!

As I was saying, in stature she is no bigger
than a twelve year old, cute as a button she is
No! they caught me before I could get to her.
No! I'll not tell you her name, just call her "Button"

In your article, I'll give you
a hint though.She's named
for a song bird.Meadow lark?
Mocking bird? One more guess.

Bye, I have to go now.The doctor wants to
see me. No, it's ok I can climb aboard
the gurney without any assistance.
Ok guys strap me in.

Cyrille "A poet when he writes is like a lover in his lady's arms. All seems true, you understand---that's half the joy of writing"
(from the Play "Cyrano De Bergerac," by Edmumd Rostand"
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