bazaar

Today I brought out my junk and lay them in the sun for people to buy. There was free tea and milo, and friendly people. Then it rained something mighty and there was TV to watch; when the sun came out again I mostly sat under a tree and read second-hand books. What a cosy time.

Later was dinner at a cafe which smelled like musky love in Australia, and it made me long for Sydney, and the Blue Mountains, and the Melbourne Comedy Festival.

After that I lay down in the car and looked at the sky and the treetops going by, and thought about if we could weave clouds into dresses, they would be softer and lighter than silk and feel like nothing at all.

I'd like to lie in tall grass and dream wispy dreams on summer afternoons.

And then at dusk I'd like to listen to the waves with a special blue-eyed boy, unpretentiously. His kisses would taste like a cocktail made from the sea and the sky.

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At the cafe the desserts were called Master Apple Pie, Master Chicken & Mushroom Tart, Master Carrot Cake, Master Tiramisu Dessert, and Master Scones.

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Saturday was traffic, stalled. We stopped on a bridge and I ran out into the heavy night air to watch explosions in the sky.

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Friday brought golden ale on a golden moonlit night. Hardly any meng nans; only trishaw tetno and cold spaghetti. We are the children of the world.

Can you think of cookies and cream in the same way ever again? Hee hee.