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April 2013, vol 9, no 1

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Mike Andrelczyk


The Frozenville Movie

I was up late again. The house was old and falling apart. I was sinking down into a worn chair, in the back room, with the ping pong table. The chair had many holes from cigarette burns. I found an old movie on the TV. Black and white. I kept the sound very low. Grandma was asleep in the next room. Breathing like the bay. There was a Detective, smoking by the window, in the movie. It was a rainy, dreary, frozen town, he had a bottle and didn't move his lips much. There was a fiendish Mad Doctor, an artist gone wrong. A love gone insane. A dark basement laboratory. An uncouth cell. Shrouded in smoke, mutating tinctures. There was a bellhop with info for sale. There was a man who looked like Louis Armstrong, with a wide grin. There were low scratchy, static sounds that sometimes popped from the old film. Gunsmoke. There was a dumb, honest policeman, and a crooked cop. There was a hysterical, red-headed woman in a white dress. She gets smacked. The detective kissed her. There was a shifty shadow man who was watching everything. The movie ends with the detective and the girl driving down a highway.

green spring moon
the humming motel light
goes on and off




crane