Its all in great hazyness and the talking won`t stop. I`m watching the birds nest high up on the tree wondering if we’ll ever run away with the dish and the spoon because the dog will be laughing at the cow that jumped over the moon. Will someone please sing to me.
It`s the words ”nice” and ”fond” and ”cute”that make me want to drown myself. And how do I feel today? Not much different from yesterday or the day before that. Things shift, minds change.
My eyelids weigh a ton and my body has been collapsing all over this city.
No, I don`t really feel like that at all. I fooled you didn’t I? HAH!
It`s really nice how we have those little thoughts that rattle around in our heads, like the stories of an eyeball in a packet of crisps. On the charabanc, late at night, I felt like I should be aware, but I was so incredibly safe. I saw this man hop on, drunk and bewildered. We stood on the rocky bus next to eachother. His music so loud and he shared it with me, without even a word. “Wait, they don’t love you like I love you.” He was looking over me and protecting in his own clumsy way. I was giving him company too, in a sense of mutual gentleness. He won’t remember me. But “Wait” I remember him “They don’t love you like I love you”.
When my stop came I felt that I should say something, a “thank you” perhaps. But, no. I made a friend in a stranger and I’ll never see him again.
But I`m glad. I wouldn’t want to.
