all you can feet (5/5/22)


remember fish spa pedicures, now that was a weird fad, paying to stick your feet in a bath of Red Garra fish, or so-called Doctor Fish, for them nibble dead skin from your feet… yum yum, lucky fish!… no surprise that didn’t last long…


who’d have thought at the age of sixteen you’d be where you are now… did you?… I didn’t, that’s for certain, or not much anyway, perhaps not quite this far ahead to now, and where am I now, exactly?… well, not where I’d half-thought I’d be , although like I say I hardly had a masterplan, and whenever I did try to make plans they invariably fell apart or never even got so far as first-footing… regrets?… I’ve had a few, actually, a million, and counting, that’s if I was counting, but I’m not, I’ve no desire to compound an already erratic story that’s had a habit of veering and crashing, veering and crashing and then stuttering to disturbing halt… you know, considering earth is supposed to be, in many ways, unique in the known galaxy and who knows, maybe universe, we ain’t half making a complete pig’s balls of it……

© 2022 robert greig


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