A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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March 2009, vol 5 no 1

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Jeff Winke

Sweet Doomed Angels

She has beautiful sad eyes and an urgent soft voice. It is difficult to not want to hold her tight and whisper that everything's fine. The effect is universal. Even hard-ass psychopaths with histories of murder and malice soften into the equivalent of compassion-laden Capuchin friars mumbling "don't worry. . . everything will be O.K. . . there's no need to be sad." She never quite understands the dynamic. Her dates are disastrous, always ending with the guys rocking her gently in their strong arms while offering her solace. Understandably, she is frustrated. She yearns for a bodice-ripping affair— much like the sweet doomed angels in the romance books she passionately reads. In photos, she's alluring and sultry, so she posts W4M ads with her photo online. The response is immediate and enormous. She'll choose one. They'll exchange emails guaranteeing an explosive meeting at the hidden-away Lucky Star Motel. She'll arrive early and change into a naughty nurse, French parlor maid, or whatever fantasy get-up she gleans from the guy's emails and then anticipates being the swooning victim in a pulp romance story and acting out the scene that occurs in the dead space between two chapters. But as happens every time, the revved-up guy will look into those beautiful sad eyes and hear that urgent soft voice. He'll find her push-up breasts against his chest and her classic red-cross nurse's hat ajar as he holds her tight and murmurs softly that things can't be that bad and everything will be all right.

pizza delivery
coupon for three bucks off. . .

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