A torso in the Thames. A
second-body-has-been-found-
in-boulters-lock-police-
suspect
�Mr. and Mrs. () were due to arrive
at their g�te at midday but failed��

We have invented
The Missing Person.
Life has become one long orienteering exercise.
I must note weather, leave co-ordinates,
tell a significant other my
ETA.

Skin crawls.
Gut marginally faster.
If I started today, swam/flew
I�d be found out.

Suppose I dematerialised ptoossh!
from the middle of Boots, Henley
and rematerialised,
��������������������������������������������������(wet, but unharmed
humidity smushing petticoats
against my thighs, legs greasy with
longing, toes freshly done
in Foxglove just for you � � � they�d

have me.
It�s easier bein� dead.
Mourners messy,
children�s lives wrecked,
��such a waste,�
file complete.

I�m obviously having none
of it. I�ll find you somehow
if it kills me. Even
if I have to sniff you, 1 in a million.

You know where I am: send
sweat.



�2006 by AnnMarie Eldon