Evil flowers for a bad girl…
Ethilee always dreamt of that fateful Summer on The Cape. She met a boy at the regatta and he took her aboard his catamaran. He had named it The S.S Mary Jane after his love of weed. They drank wine and dined on fresh shrimp as that boy rolled joints with the deftness of a surgeon. They smoked spliff after spliff and soon the S.S. Mary Jane lost it’s bearings. They stripped off their swimsuits and went for a swim as the sun finally set. She had not ever remembered being so carefree. As they sailed back to what they believed to be land Ethilee’s bikini bottoms were carried away by the Zephyr winds. She wore a towel around herself as the boat docked in some misbegotten bay.
Ethilee had slowly lost contact with that boy and she had returned to The Cape only once after that season of excess. She wore her Fleur Du Mal Botanical Bra to pay homage to the girl she once was and to attract any glancing eyes of course. She spent the day looking for that boat in hopes of recapturing a morsel of her lost youth. An old deckhand pointed her to a nearby enclosure for discarded ships. It was there she located the S.S Mary Jane in disrepair. Memories like smoke tendrils began to envelop this abandoned corner of the marina. She caught a glimpse of herself wearing her Fleur Du Mal Botanical Bra in a piece of broken glass. Iiit was as if she had set sail once again into the Summer of her dreams. She lit a joint and ran her hand against the broken hull and whispered, “C’est la vie.”
