Lexington Avenue’s Abyss (Brazil)

The carve on the right side of her belly signed my work

A short story by Jeison Karnal
Designed by Emerson Wiskow

I washed the little lump in running water. In the palm of my hand, a green emerald glow. I wrapped it in a cotton ball. The cocoon of silk withered inside the canister; Marilyn Monroe’s gallbladder.

Next to the surgical instruments, Marilyn dreamed of Norma Jeane and I dreamed of the fluttering dress of Lexington Avenue.

The carve on the right side of her belly signed my work. Simple procedure. I left the block and took the relic to a pawn shop. The souvenir transaction would cost me loss of accreditation and a few weeks in jail. Marilyn, a paper woman on my wall. My Girl from Ipanema. We had lunch and slept together. I heard about the overdose on the guard’s radio.

The news ran through the cell, stabbed my chest. I paid the bail. I bought flowers. I knocked over a bottle of cheap whiskey in front of the news stand. I walked to the movie theatre. Around midnight, I was the only one in the room. Marilyn reappeared, unscathed. I felt terrible. Norma Jeane condemned to eternal youth.

With a scalpel, I invaded the projection room. I blew the employee’s neck until he left us alone. Marilyn Monroe, a cinematic spectrum. I placed the white roses at the foot of the canvas. The credits went up.

I returned to the anonymous, sickly, lonely hell of Lexington Avenue. Joe DiMaggio and I fought to the death. Police sirens went through the night. Marilyn’s bile in the number 5 Chanel jar dripped my jacket.

(Published in the Diário de Canoas journal, Brazil in 9/1/2017)

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