I kept inside as the big black shapes glided overhead, June was stranded in a glass room (which centuries ago would have been called a frozen lake) laying tables for the old. I wrote all my messages on small pebbles which could in theory be cast on a beach. After the sky had shed another skin we went out for a meal of RAF roundels and the space inside atomic nuclei. The talk was about walls – mine was the biggest – but we used the door to go out and the window to come in again.
I went out early with the ice like a cold tongue on the pavement. I was spat out in a village in the hills of snow. I spent some time looking at a smile I made twenty years ago knowing that the comedian was trapped in the box and at any moment could force himself out again. I left before the laughter and memories descended carrying a bust of Marie Antoinette and a box of chocolate biscuits. The sea slug traversed the bottom of the tank and I entered through the same door that I had left.
A procession of people with their eyes shut walked by our smiling front door; we joined the procession near the back – I saw the ghost of an old fashioned bus conductor floating overhead. I was wearing two hats and regretted not bringing a second head. On the way back I suddenly found myself shrunk to the size of a pea and rolled about inside my shoe (which had been hurting my foot). I had to see the banshee sisters after breakfast and flew over the town with a used stamp in my notebook.
I walked up the white hill in the pitch black, the moon had turned and the knife marks made by the do it yourself geysers punctuated the road. June was crumpling up the remains of a black and white photograph as I tried to remember the strangers’ face. We read the directions in the side of a snowed up wall and I put down two table top lamps on the pavement. I then walked the dog under water and played the trumpet at the top of the stairs as the frozen bison ambled by.
June and I followed some footprints up the hill, finding the boots but not the feet that went in them. A winter sprite shot out of a hole in the ground and helped me to count the red lights as they slowly made their way down the road. I had to go to the snowed in aircraft hanger to blow up a balloon and then flew home using a glider made from holly twigs. I got in just in time to stop the dog smearing lipstick across her mouth. She kissed a blank envelope and I answered the door.
We collectively walked up the hill to see the cat girl (who was kept prisoner by people with telephones through their noses – imagine small bones falling instead of snow flakes – I missed my important call). She gave us some buttons which June sewed on a sheet in the shape of a smile – I said I had a flag with a staring eye on it but found its eye closed tightly shut; the eye emblazoned ship sailed up the railway cutting with the pilot holding a bird which he let free at the tunnel entrance.
June had to go out in a snowy white sailing ship which had developed the power of flight in a misspent youth. I stayed at home like a lighthouse many miles inland. I had walked the dog inside the bed clothes and searched for sea shells on the bedroom ceiling before flying to an asteroid to plant a tree in memory of the strange dream I had last night. The man delivered a box on wheels which I was planning to jump into when June returned home wearing a hat made from play-doh.