By: Kari G.
After Madeline wandered around Paris as a small child, she disappeared off the literary map. Here’s where she’s been:
Part One
In an old box in Paris that was covered with grime,
Lived twelve filthy bums and a struggling mime.
They drank themselves to death on wine…
The drunkest one was Madeline!
The stinky booze did cloud up her head,
Until she awoke in a stranger’s crusty bed.
Her blue-buttoned coat was infected with staph…
From her romps in dark alleys for a buck and a half.
Though her childhood friends only mused over crepes,
Her “suitors” now confirm that the rug matches the drapes.
Even the unkempt man near the Circle K…
Traded Madeline crack for a roll in the hay.
The old Miss Clavel would’ve hated drug addiction,
But she’s stuck on a cot with an Alzheimer’s affliction.
With no one there to tell her no…
Madeline sold her body for an ounce of blow.
Even her poor dog Genevieve couldn’t lend a paw,
For she was hit by a truck as witnesses saw.
With all this turmoil, loss and death…
Madeline had no choice but to turn to meth.
As Madeline lay awake in her dingy old box,
Wasted and hiding her drugs in her socks,
She wondered what happened to her friends from school…
And if they too slept in urine and drool.
