My Diary

As I got out of bed I imagined painting a set of gleaming white teeth on someone’s buttocks – June was accidentally talking to an American trucker – I imagined him sitting on his smile. Instead of breakfast I painted my face a dark shade of grey and then painted the house doors white. June walked to town with broom stick legs as I settled down to paint the bannister. I was equipped with brushes at the end of my cricket bat arms and a radio chair mimicked my harmonica mouth, I breathed out a tune until June signaled like a recently extinguished light at the end of a tunnel (to communicate properly I had to become a Victorian engineer and build a railway). I saw her again at the railway station alighting from a white horse – our shadows touched even though we were several feet apart.



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