Thursday 5 April 2007 22 22
I am hot, sweating, melting, in an ignoble air and base humidity.
I order the reopening of the glass window that young boy shut a few minutes ago.
Chloe, a weekend regular, in chubby embarrassment, came to tell me
that she will not come tomorrow, Primary Sports Morning, but that, I already know.
But I didn’t enlighten her, being happy to walk here and chat.
I told her to run hard, maybe get a Gold Medal, see if she can trounce
the rest; she comes, much of the time, quite cheerless to class, but I change that
with a warm-up infantile joke, to go back with bright, breezy bounce.
I am breaking my own rule, of not permitting the mug next to the computer, tonight.
this is something I tell the children; the danger of dropping liquid keyboard imbecility;
right, right the water now is glistening in anticipation of watching me ignite
in a burst of most uncouth, open-minded, non-racist electricity.
The green and white leaf of the hibiscus wink on a bright birdsong morning break,
the washing machine rotates in efficient motion and elegant monotony.
I wash up the grim, battered wok, bleak breakfast trappings, eating the air to take
the penchant for the warm light green of a remote, hazy sun-brush tree.
The next morning, she told me she got bronze.
