NOISE Chapter 3 – Coney Heats Up

          You are about to read an excerpt from my novel NOISE©, part of Chapter 3, “Coney Heats Up”©. Enjoy!
(All this writing is fully covered by international copyright law and may not be used in any form whatsoever without the author’s specific written permission.)
Lucien slowly looked at the colors.
The buzzed crowd moved in jagged lines, rippling waves, fuscia, red, lime green turquoise, yellow, pink.  Uniform in release, infinitely varied in form, all of it slightly out of kilter. Thrilling, and nauseating. “Right inside Dr Calligori’s Cabinet,” she thought. “Home.” Lucien said it out loud, to nobody but herself.
         There was too much noise around her to hear anything but for the sound she was missing, the sound of the south, the talk of cornbread and dragonflies. And it was in her now, like he was standing next to her whispering, like some wonderful plant started to grow and flower even if he wasn’t around. Lucien was only a few feet away from where she’d first met B.J., cold and empty in the park then on April 1. She remembered the second he turned to her and fixed her eyes with his and said something about living in a devil’s den.  “You up fer livin’  in this devil’s den, Sugar?”  What was she in for in a trailer right there on the asphalt track with B.J.  Thinking about it made her feet leave the ground. Not like home. No, not like nothin’. Hot damn.
        Sporty was talking about painting his wall again but she had stopped hearing.  She let herself ride into what wasn’t lost and wasn’t found. There were the usual times when she saw the exterior of people and that alone. The clothes, the smile, the hair, the fill in the blanks on the cop’s lined notebook page. Then there were the surprises, the split second when the color of the air pumped her eyes through to the inside into the mass, the protoplasma and the outline drifted away and particles were held in place by currents and hues and mechanical schemata that whispered form and shouted substance.  She was filled up with every memory of love she ever had in her life and all she could see was B.J.
Oooooh yes.  Hello!  Who are you? We knew each other in Shangri-La. You rode the baby buggy next to me on the Bronx sidewalks before we could talk. You were the senior when I was in eighth grade who never talked to me and I couldn’t tell you that I loved you with all my heart and would die for a word from you.  I saw you once getting into the F train but the doors closed, and then that one time, I knew, lying on my back on the roof, I knew you were in the plane that took off and passed right through blue sky and into the clouds like you were made to do. Well stop a minute here! Speak to me! Allure me down your alimentary canal, stranger. Share your internal workings and mingle spit with me and crunch me up in your arms and see if you ever want to leave again, no I didn’t think so I didn’t think so.
        Where was he.
God bless every man woman and child who ever made rock’n’roll

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