Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I arrive back home

I get followed by straw through the house, like a slug does by slime. Camping, ugh, and drinking, ugh.

I am weary.

I bet you aren’t able eat ten slices of cake in a row, The Otter had wagered, flashing a shiny fifty pee pence.

I am able.

I push away cuddles. At any moment, I warn, I might poo myself or do sick, and I’m not sure I will be able to warn you which until I see it.

I am candid.

I bat away questions about my tent. Still there. Still in the field. Still leaking.

I am done with that.

I find myself being looked at intently by Mr Crow, who flaps ungraciously onto the lawn, as he will. I reach for the Graze box, select something rather plain, and toss it his way. He croaks cheerfully, ferrying food to wherever that place is.

I am depended on.


Brennig said...

Christ, what have you been up to? Camping? In a downpour? Eating cake? Drinking? It all sounds self-inflicted :)

Tasha Bhakta said...

i've always thought camping would be reat specially in a down pour but wat the hell r u doin? and watst this post supposed to mean?
...but ur the only one i know who can eat 10 slices of cake in a row
...but im the only one i know that can eat so much ice-cream! no 1 can beat me NO 1!

Luma G. Louzada said...

you write very nicely!

Marcia Vincia Lynch said...

Have you thought about putting your words to illustrations and creating a short story book. I am an illustrator and your words are full of images. just a thought. Here's my link to my blogger site some of my works