Postcard proseIssue 22 | April 2015

The Last Gentleman

by Eldon Reishus

I was the rainmaker. I was the vehicle of smart. I was the lark of an apartment in Lehel. I was bishop to F6, checkmate. Today I can fall out of love with someone that I desperately need as easily as I can fall in love with somebody that I’ll never meet. It all comes down to the metabolism of the Internet.

Like last night again with her Royal Hotness: sure, she’s no ginger, pig-tailed porn star, but tossed into a pair of flowery calico bell bottoms, blue jacket, magenta blouse, yellow scarf, and checkerboard sleeping bonnet, she would make a totally swinging sixties stewardess. Ms. Middleton has those vintage stewardess genes, the stuff of yesterday’s Pan Am dreams – or today’s SA.

Each time I board a Singapore Airlines cabin a happy whistle trespasses my lips: So long too little too long! I need that extra blanket, that extra bullshit for behind my neck, those sage three inches of added leather knee room comfort. I need nine non-stop anime channels. I need the choice between the Nino-Zen Yakimono grilled Jidori chicken, or the steamed Kyo-Kaiseki Ichino-Zen Sakizuke lobster. I need a Chanel scented stewardess to float down to my first-class ear and whisper: »Would you care for anything more? Shortly the captain shall be beginning our descent.« 

Rain pelts my window in gargantuan ropes. The Boeing shudders. First die the lights. The seat before me wets my socks. Falling oxygen masks. Who would have thought that we’d make it this far? Once a tornado fairly lifted my car. The seat that wet me wears a bun. An airborne earthquake. Then go the reserve lights. She’ll never know that she never knew that I never shared her final secret. Osmemaus, lika lellaone!

About the author

Eldon (Craig) Reishus lives beneath the Alps outside Munich (Landkreis Bad Tölz - Wolfratshausen). He’s an old school Exquisite Corpse contributor with recent work featured or forthcoming at such venues as Am Erker, BODY, theEEEL and Word Riot. A German-English translator and an all-around web and print media pro, he originates from Fort Smith, Stuttgart, Dachau, Owatonna, Bloomington, Granite Falls, Ytterboe at Saint Olaf, Minneapolis, Portland’s State Street, Berlin’s Schlossallee, and Munich’s Schellingstrasse. Visit his blog.

Read our current issue:


Two poems by Anne Babson
Vignette, Townhouse, 9 a.m. by Troy Cunio
Night Becomes Day Over the West by Megan Foley
Yukon River Aurora by D. B. Goman
Two Poems by David Havird
Cretan Love Letter by Emily Linstrom
Holland by Rick Mullin
Fear in Kenya by Kristina Pfleegor
The Lounge Lizard by Ed Shacklee
Two Poems by Sarah J. Sloat
Night Flight by Vicki Stannard
Koinonia Farms by Alina Stefanescu
Thessaloniki, Four a.m. by Anastasia Vassos
Imaginary Oceans by Jason Warren
Two Poems by F. J. Williams

Postcard prose

It’s Salty by Kelly Hill

Travel notes

Anchorage in the Great Land by Karen Benning
The Value of Small Money by Megan Hallinan
Screensaver by Sandra Larson
Thirty Cents by Tommy McAree
Gokarna by Kate McCahill
Going Places by Rachel Miller-Howard
Susanville CA: Notes From The Road by Susan Volchok