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Dick and Jane, Together Again-Fiction by Marcy Dilworth
Lay Down Sally-Fiction by Jack Coey
Cleaning Up After the Narc-Fiction by Walter Giersbach
Faith-Fiction by Don Stoll
Cigarettes-Fiction by Gary Lovisi
Blood Will Bloom Like a Watercolor Flower-Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Toast, Jell-o, Tea-Fiction by Cindy Rosmus
The PLacebo Effect-Fiction by Paul Smith
Aftermath-Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Just Like Fish-Fiction by Paul Lubaczewski
Waterworks-Fiction by Sue Cmileski
Saith Me-Fiction by Robert Ragan
The Return of the Ladykiller-Fiction by Michael D. Davis
Fire Man-Fiction by Terry Butler
Lost in Greenwich Village-Fiction by Dr. Mel Waldman
Never, Ever Bring This Up Again-Flash Fiction by Ralph Benton
Hip-Hop Baby-Flash Fiction byJ. Brooke
Idylls of the Queen-Flash Fiction by Dini Armstrong
Looking Cold-Flash Fiction by Stanton McCaffrey
Camera_Flash Fiction by Leyla Guirand
Ashes and Dust-Flash Fiction by Janet Hartwell
Family Man-Poem by Ann Marie Rhiel
Heads-Poem by John Grey
The Architect-Poem by Marc Carver
economy class-Poem by Meg Baird
She Knows-Poem by Bradford Middleton
Rain-Poem by Maddisyn Condora
Counter-Intuitive-Poem by Henry Bladon
An Eerie Journey Down the Invisible Staircase-Poem by Dr. Mel Waldman
A Sonnet for Elvira-Poem by Juan Perez
Unforeseen Endings-Poem by Michael Keshigian
When Her Kisses-Poem by Richard M. Prazych
In Your White Cadillac-Poem by Richard M. Prazych
Love in the Time of Wolves-Poem by Jennifer Lemming
I Do-Poem by Jennifer Lemming
a bite better-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
hot afternoon-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
registry-Poem by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen
Dirty Pink Lipstick-Poem by Ian Mullins
Wrestlin' Gal-Poem by Ian Mullins
Between Takes-Poem by Ian Mullins
Banjo Bob and Cassy-Poem by David Spicer
Neurotic-Poem by David Spicer
I Imagine It's Goodbye-Poem by David Spicer
A Date with Destiny-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Under Moonlight-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
2020 (The Heart and the Thorn)-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
She Loves You-Poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Cartoons by Cartwright
Hail, Tiger!
Angel of Manslaughter
The Gazing Ball
Strange Gardens
Gutter Balls
Calpurnia's Window
No Place Like Home
ALAT
Dark Tales from Gent's Pens

78_ym_lostgreenwichvillage_afknott.jpg
Art by A. F. Knott © 2020

LOST

 

IN

 

GREENWICH VILLAGE

 

 

By Dr. Mel Waldman

 

Looking out the window in my tiny room, I watch the sun drop in the sky and die, vanishing in the August night. For a few seconds, I imagine I’m back in Mallory Square, Key West gazing at a gorgeous sunset. And my mind, an old mustang, gallops into the sweet phantasmagoria of the Heavens, a beautiful place that feeds my broken soul.

Soon, in a trancelike state, I turn around, sit in a wooden chair and open a paperback book. It is The Secret of Evil by Roberto Bolańo. My gold eyes dart and flit across the hypnotic pages and now, I too vanish inside his addictive words and eerie stories. Later, I take my evening INFER pills for my illness and saunter off into the seething night.

Leaving my room on the Upper West Side, I head south on Broadway. Time dissolves and space shrinks and I meander through the forbidden streets of Manhattan. By chance or destiny, I find myself in Washington Square Park. I sit on a bench by the Washington Arch and ponder the beautiful night.

The swirl of darkness swallows my brain and suddenly, I rise and rush off. I don’t know where I’m going. But it seems I’m heading west.

I wander through the West Village until my weary body stops at the Riviera Café at 7th Avenue South. “Thought the place had closed down,” I mutter. “But it’s still here.”

I enter the familiar café where we used to dine every week.

A short dark-eyed woman welcomes me and asks, “Your usual table, Sir?”

“Sure,” I say. Yet I don’t recall where we used to sit nor the tiny woman who knows me.

She takes me to a dimly lit corner in the back. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” She scurries off.

Soon, a lanky waiter arrives. “How are you tonight?”

“Fine.”

“Will your wife and twin girls be joining you?”

“No.”

“Well, give them my best.”

“Of course.”

“Will you be having our Dinner Special #1?”

I look quizzically at him.

“It’s your favorite meal.”

“Sure.”

He hurries off.

I gaze at the oval darkness through the Riviera’s glass walls and vanish in boketto. After drifting across an ocean of vacant gazing, I return to a beautiful place.

In my mind’s eye, we’re lying on the sprawling sand in Manhattan Beach. My wife Sarah and our twins Anna and Annette are by my side on a mammoth aqua beach towel.

But soon, they scurry across the burning sand and jump into the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean. I sit up and watch them splashing and swimming. When Sarah and the girls return, Anna, my brown-eyed wonder, cries out, “Daddy, can we go to Coney Island and eat some hot dogs and fries?” “And can we go on the rides?” Annette adds, her brown eyes, a shade lighter than Anna’s, stare longingly at me.

Sarah grins wickedly and says, “Your father works hard all week, girls. Maybe he wants to go home and rest.”

My girls hug my chest and beg, “Please, Daddy…”

“Okay, girls. Just for a short while,” I growl.  Yet being with my wife and girls is the thrill of my life.

Then suddenly, my family and Manhattan Beach disappear.

I’m floating in boketto, looking out into the merciless darkness.

“What happened?” a distant voice cries out, cutting through the seething darkness. “What really happened?”

The voice is eerily familiar. Is it the ominous sound of my alter ego shrieking from the other side of reality? Or is it Sarah’s mournful voice or the melancholy voices of my precious girls? Who is calling out to me? Who?

Time dissolves and space shrinks again. Like an out-of-body experience, I watch the Riviera Café and Greenwich village vanish. Where am I? Who am I?

I look around and find myself back in my claustrophobic room. The clock on the night table says 3 a.m. Time to take my bedtime medicine-a cornucopia of INFER pills. After swallowing the potent pills, I lie down and read The Secret of Evil.  

Time rushes slowly through my brain and I hear someone crying next door. I place my head against the wall. The crying stops abruptly.

After an interlude of silence, an uncanny voice whispers, “What happened? What really happened?”

I lie down again and notice a long white envelope next to the clock. Inside, is a note to myself.

I am in the Riviera Hotel. I take 3 INFERNO pills 3 times a day to cope with my illness. Someday, I’ll remember… Until then and forever, I love my wife Sarah and our twin girls Anna and Annette. What shall I get them for Valentine’s Day, only 6 months away?

I ponder these beautiful thoughts as I plummet into a deep sleep-a therapeutic exploration of the 9 circles of inner space induced by my INFERNO pills. The pain will diminish in time; my doctors tell me. And now, from faraway, in a safe place, I whisper, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Dr. Mel Waldman is a psychologist, poet, and writer whose stories have appeared in numerous magazines including HARDBOILED DETECTIVE, ESPIONAGE, THE SAINT, PULP METAL MAGAZINE, and AUDIENCE. His poems have been widely published in magazines and books including A NEW ULSTER, CLOCKWISE CAT, CRAB FAT LITERARY MAGAZINE, ESKIMO PIE, INDIANA VOICE JOURNAL, LIQUID IMAGINATION, THE BROOKLYN LITERARY REVIEW, BRICKPLIGHT, SKIVE MAGAZINE, ODDBALL MAGAZINE, PABLO LENNIS, POETRY PACIFIC, POETICA, RED FEZ, SQUAWK BACK, SWEET ANNIE & SWEET PEA REVIEW, THE JEWISH LITERARY JOURNAL, THE JEWISH PRESS, THE JERUSALEM POST, HOTMETAL PRESS, MAD SWIRL, HAGGARD & HALLOO, ASCENT ASPIRATIONS, YELLOW MAMA, THE BITCHIN’ KITSCH, SOUL-LIT, TWO DROPS OF INK, and NAMASTE FIJI: THE INTERNATIONAL ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY. A past winner of the literary GRADIVA AWARD in Psychoanalysis, he was nominated for a PUSHCART PRIZE in literature and is the author of 11 books.

A. F. Knott is a self-taught collage artist focused on book layout and book cover design as well networking in conjunction with Hekate Publishing, one of its missions, bringing together artist and writer. Sometimes seen selling in New York City's Union Square Park. Work can be found on 

flickr.com/photos/afknott/ Any exchange of ideas welcome: anthony_knott@hekatepublishing.com

In Association with Black Petals & Fossil Publications © 2020