you know what's funny about the whole deal? she'd done it before. that bitch had disappeared before; once when she was seven years old-her aunt swore young junie had been in the sand pit rooting around for loose change; another time when she had just turned eleven, turns out she'd fallen through a crack in the boardwalk, but no one knew what she was doing for the six hours they searched, not even her; there was the time she disappeared for three days at the age of twelve, the longest period of time, showing up in the stables that housed the monroe's prized Friesian horse, with nothing on, but a freshwater pearl necklace.
junie monroe with her lacquer lips and tasseled coat. by 13, she was the talk of the town. but I tell you, no one knew her like I did. I promise I'm not a stalker or anything shit weird like that. but I can't tell, I'm sorry. I hope you'll understand.
when junie disappeared on the 13th september 1998, she disappeared real good. all the cops ever came up with was her bag, abandoned in a bush of blazing star flowers. after that, no one, not even her mother, ever saw her again.
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jolie memphis
PoetrySuzanne led me over to the gap, that pale opaque liquid seeping into my skin-honey, I realised. she leaned in close, voice warm and soft, the scent of aniseed on her breath. you can be anyone you want, she whispered. I closed my eyes. who are yo...
