(How the day went from the blissful early morning to sweeping sunset, without pause or patter, without sugar or smoke, without the benefit of a sudden departure from the script.)
We boarded the caravan some little time ago
One door each way
Frosted glass panels
Dim light from outside
Illuminating the drab nylon covers
On the grey chairs
– These magazines are about 100 years old
– The pages are stuck together on this one
– That must be for gentlemen only
She stares at the clock
She looks beautiful in this pale light
Cheekbones lifting her face
From the doldrums of approaching middle age
– What are you looking at?
– Well stop it, it’s annoying
Once upon a time
She wanted nothing more than my adoration
But now she has grown bored of me
Up she gets
To the door
Raps her fist on the surface
It sounds curiously flat
There’s no sound from without
On the table there’s a magazine
I pick it up
Pleased to find it’s not sticky
It has stories of human tragedy
Cute photos of people’s kids
Doing cute kid stuff
She is called
And then gone
And beyond the limit of this horizon
I am surprisingly early
For an appointment
Of my own
Visit Dan at http://www.dantindall.com.
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