Madeleine
by Barry Hale
Evening is fragrant with Parisian August. Madeleine's mouth is open to the sky. Commuters step down her long concrete tongue to the platforms deep in her belly. They wait for their trains. South to Balard. North to Richelieu Drouot. Madeleine also waits, for the last train of evening.
With sweet summer midnight Madeleine's platforms fall empty. Her heart flutters - the last train is due. Will he travel tonight? The gauche man with the lop-sided smile ...
He steps alone from the train. Madeleine thrills to the touch of his feet as his steps ring out from her platfom. Tonight they will become lovers. Madeleine's signs redirect him into her most intimate passageways. Places no man has stepped before. Her spiralling paths take him deep into Madeleine's heart.
Madeleine's iron gates close. Two Art Deco lamps, the ruby eyes of her face, glow rich with the blood of requited love.
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