Thread: Message to the Sheriff (ATN: Janus 11-10-09)

A flowery poem left on a scented sheaf of paper in the city Elysium. The hidden meaning is couched in the pretty words.

Sheriff

I stay at the spot, where coffee is brewed and poets decry,
and he knows that my breath is infected with death
for a kiss or a touch,
or the sound of a hush,
and the wind doesn't blow and the tree doesn't grow,
and I cease to exist in that moment of time,
and I can't see the difference between caffeine
and my breath,
in the frozen footsteps of that long-winding path,
around which his sandals stepped, weary of me.
But Wednesday, at dark, I'll step out of the cold,
and the heat will be as blaring as the emotion I loathe,
and a degenerate will be sitting in a rich leather booth,
waiting for you to break her solitude.

Making his rounds, Janus stops into the museum briefly to see the faces of those denizens of the Ivory Tower. Spotting the missive he regards it, seeing his name and title. Swiping it quickly, his nostrils flare. With a confused look he brings the paper to his nostrils and then away. Looking around confused, he brings it back to his nose and sniffs again. With utter confusion ruling his mind, he stuffs it into his pocket and leaves...