Aren't there little "literature" magazines that publish bad poetry, 
short stories
and things of that nature?  
Then again this is the same person the emailed me a pic of her latest 
painting (and a poem) 
asking for my opinion.  Keep in mind I had never spoken to her before.

Dan

 
Carolina Aboumrad wrote:
> I was sitting in an english garden.
> 
> It was five in the afternoon when I thought that Jenny Jones' makeover 
> party 
> was boring that I brusquely heard the screams in my quiet residencial 
> space. 
> I immediately ran to the window and saw what seemed to be two pekinese 
> mongrels' heads jerking about. I stepped outside thinking that my heart 
> would jump out my chest, hearing it thump in my ears, sinking away from 
> my 
> best... I closed the sliding door behind me and approached the fence. 
> Through the hole I saw two geriatrics going at it. They were Ned and 
> Phil 
> from the hardware store. I always wondered why they closed so early. 
> Their 
> sweat glistened in a scenario like those 70s love scenes in the 
> outdoors. 
> Very reminiscent of the COCKFIGHTER (The bright orange sun between two 
> cocks, ready to fight). Something came over me, where the shock ended, 
> and I 
> began to giggle uncontrolably. They stopped. I crawled to the nearest 
> door, 
> so they would not see me, but it was too late. A wrinkled neck rose and 
> jerked to the side paraplegically. At that moment Ned's shocked mouth 
> had 
> opened so fast to speak that his dentures flew out and onto the grass.
> "What the hell are you doing!?!?! Get the hell out of here!" [Ned].
> I remain hidden in a bush, breathing heavily like a pervert on the 
> telephone. I felt wrong, I felt ashamed, I was the pervert on the phone, 
> but 
> what the hell were two old men doing having a bit of the vertical fun 
> outside my door?!!!?!?
> "Mind your P's and Q's dear, we're very gay! now go away!" [Phil]
> I hid some more and decided to peek one more time. My head rose to the 
> level 
> of the top of the fence and they could see the whites of my eyes. How 
> was I 
> going to escape? I stood up and walked away as they put their clothes 
> back 
> on. Rockport standards, L.L. Bean, and thick glasses intact, precise. I 
> only 
> glanced back once more to show that I still cared and closed my door. 
> For 
> the next couple of weeks my mother would demand me to go to the hardware 
> 
> store and buy nuts, screws, for our house was falling apart 
> mysteriously. I 
> could not keep a straight face. There was nothing better to do than 
> watch my 
> neighbors go at it from behind the fence.
> 
> 
> 
> Carolin.a
> _________________________________________________________________
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