My Diary

I sat in a chair strung from the ceiling by spider silk while June went out; to my spider eyes like a fly climbing a window pane. I had to collect her later with her glasses replaced with mobile phones – when she winked she rung herself – and her hands clutching a rosary of shopping bags; I said an infinite number of hail Marys while taking quantum leaps on the way home. Once there I checked the height of the fireside light and convinced it had grown went to the birthday party of a small mouse from the early Cenozoic; he was dressed in a well used boiler suit and blew out his candles in the time it took a Nordic god to drain the ocean (standing on the bottom was a man and woman with outstretched arms; if either had moved an inch their fingers would have touched).

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