somewhere-place, 11/July/17

now the first thing, pondered our hero, how to work the shower… new places always offered among other new things inevitable new shower challenges and here was no exception…. numerous turny and pressy things he deduced through fiddling he could coax to life… and voila!……..

….. once more our hero had found himself upon the road feeling the miles drift vacantly across tides of tarmac….. white lines, cats eyes, white lines, cats eyes, chevrons, chevrons……. houses full of lives recessed into clumsily retreating landscapes lurk, mingle, huddle, awaiting some procession that never comes to pass……. sloughed in flakes of blur trampled under new thoughts, new sights, imagined sounds, as the only real clear and present sound was the drone of an engine tirelessly dragging our heroes tired bones through the multifarious……

……. another adventure, another convoluted  gaggle of apprehensions roused, another journey to another somewhere-place, somewhere-town of somewhere-people where he knew at least a shower would be waiting…….. stretching his umbilical cord taut from the place he loosely called home threatening to snap……. the tether strains…….

…… horizons once distant now close (too close for comfort?) wrap their unfamiliar yet familiar concrete arms and redbrick charms around him to tease him, draw him, drag him into its forest of streetlights and street sights and street sounds and no doubt street smells……. washed up in a somewhere-place now having worked his magic on the shower he commits more secret thoughts to the log, the diary, the memory in ink under the watchful gaze of a bedside lamp, stark and angle-poised, to the song of laughing gulls…. somewhere there’s a sea to see…….. deathless thoughts spread like mycorrhiza  between the lines across the page…….

…… our hero drifts to sleep while tomorrow’s out of reach…….

© robert greig 2017


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