Wednesday, 13 January 2010

My father sent me as fathers do, with good intentions to a desert island when I was a child to be alone, or maybe alone, and not alone, there was such silence there, although the birds did cry and I fell into a rock pool and deep deep down I met my future, it bleed into the sand on the beach like a city, like Brisbane or Rome, Toes and heels toes and heels, and every part of a foot, how many wild ideas were found every moment in my fancy, and what strange, unaccountable whimsies came into my thoughts by the way, and silence lay across this white and hot bay, first I saw his name on a piece of broken pottery just there on the shell line, and then there in the distance is Robinson Crusoe, wearing a red dress looking down at my footprint in the wet sand, my future in his book in one hand and an unbrella from a store in singapore in the other, he looked worried but smiled a wicked smile as he looked up and caught my eye and mouthed the word "honey" I broke down and cried for the memory of my lost love's.
beneath my toes the sand began to crumble and beneath my heels a secret unfurled and the lies come flooding like years of tears, betrayal! I looked back to see if he was looking back at me and hastened away with sails that needed no wind but prayers and darkness.

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