Wine.
"Wine is the one thing we have left in common," he thought, looking out over the set table before him. She had opted for the house red, as he did. She hadn't drunk much of her glass; no time for it between the business at hand. He had gorged himself of his own glass.
She drew some papers from her bag. Starched, sparkling papers with her lawyer's mark on them.
"Her lawyer's mark on her," he thought.
He motioned the waiter to quickly refill his cup. He emptied it with equal alacrity.
Not words, but papers passed between them....
The wizened beast crawled across the savannah, dragging the old cart with dilapidated wheels. The grassland swayed, tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the coffee table after pulling his head out of the carpet.
"Daddy, you can't stand yet! You are supposed to be pulling my wagon!"
"Daddy needs his coffee, son." The man scratched his stubble and his backside, retaining the mannerisms of his cattle form. The child scampered around the couch, catching the beast at its watering hole.
"Alright, back on the trail. Where was I heading?"
"Oregon trail. You have dysentery."
"So to the toilet...
*click*
"Sweetie, Daddy is trying to work, OK? One more picture and then you go play with your dolls, OK? You can do a fashion show and take pictures of them. Wouldn't that be fun?"
*click* *click* *click*
"OK, that's enough now. Honey? HEY, HONEY! Can you come get Penny? I need to finish this report! Honey?"
"She can't hear you."
"Why not? Where's Mommy, sweetheart? Is she outside?"
"The woman is in my capture device."
"What? Your... Penny, what's wrong? Why are you looking like that? Where's Mommy?"
"The woman is in my capture device. Along with the pre-reproductive...
"Surprise!" The lights flickered on, and the balloons flew up to the ceiling. I jumped back, startled. A surprise birthday party! My grin reached both my ears.
"Oh boy! Thanks, guys!" I ran up and hugged my dad.
"That's alright, my boy. Look, there's your presents! Go open them, kid." I disengaged and rushed over to the pile of gifts. I ripped them open, tearing the wrapping paper into tiny shreds. The first one I opened was the best.
It was a dinosaur costume set of pyjamas. I immediately rushed to my bedroom and put them on, and ran back...
Thats the kind of life I dream about, one where i stop to arch in the wind alongside the flowers. The life I have, it's not so much like that, I rarely stop, seldom arch, I stride, I talk, I eat I drink, I spend, I worry. But I know the wind blows and the flowers go gently with it, and they'll be there one day when I stop to see them, to sit with them
and bend.
It was my "life's work," that's what they call such a thing, but it makes it sound so organised, like my life was something i contolled and I sensibly chose each morning to get up and expend my earthly energies on this tower. "You must have a lot of self-discipline" people say to me when I meet them at parties and we discuss our lives as though we see them clearly, as patterns of behaviour about which we can make broad statements. I try to answer, as best I can, saying something appropriately self-effacing.
What I'd like to tell them...
without wine, my table would have only small slices of bread and small slices of cheese. without wine, my table would have only small slices of truth.
Bring me wine friend, and ill tell you things i know. bring me wine and let's sit on an evening where nothing is happening, on my old soft couch looking out on the mid-section of a tree. Bring me wine and we'll swirl it around in our glasses, we'll let our noses rest on the rim and feel the vapours on our eyes. We'll sit and let ideas come and go,
sit and...
Mal says, "Don't think this'll pass, and I'll cool down and think the chill of my loneliness can be warmed by blanket of your love. Your love is a cold, salty bar rag."
"I waited by your side for months until you healed. No one else ever came to see you," cried Layla.
"Yeah, well, who asked you? Maybe I put myself in that coma for a moment of peace. Christ, you can't take a hint. And get that kid outta here. Wasn't mine, even in theory.
"And neither were you."
The pistol was cocked, ready to go. It was a bit overwhelming for me, having the power to just end a life. One pull of the trigger, and the poor sap in front of me had slipped from the mortal coil. Such great power.
The man in front of me slid down the wall, the blood trailing from the back of his head creating a noticable streak across the brickwork. Someone had to have noticed the noise, because sirens started blaring and spinning red lights activated.
I ran and jumped out of the window, crashing through the glass. I could...
Leaving was not a new idea.
it was a known fact that it was the Best idea.
but leaving.. was Not the easiest.
it wasn't the packing or the finding-a-new-home
or all of the usual headaches-
it was what was being left behind
this not-so-little conundrum has kept me here for exactly three years to the date.
you see..
it was built here, it can't leave here..
literaly, it cannot fit out the door.
saw it in half and take both pieces? ..no
burn it and save the ashes? but it's full!
stay? i guess so..