(Seul Dans Le Collectif)

Those balmy days of sluggish avalanches and an antipathy toward the swarm long gone. They abandoned him the moment she opened her mouth and spat out the word, ‘Abracadabra’. He misses her honeyed flesh, disrespectful soul and perceptive love making with an abnormal passion.

As of now, every which way horizons frame his roomy prison cell. Tantalising perimeters beyond his ability to touch. A vagrant apiary, walls agonizingly ahead of perception chasing eyesight. Ties that no longer bind, frigid art forms, unfathomable riddles and a Moorish castle in Spain. These are the obsessions she swiped.

Alone, within a congregation of unnerving identical immortals he marvels at the chameleon sky above, ever grateful that when she left him marooned she was at odds to remind him to take three multi-coloured capsules each new dawn with the proviso that they be washed down with a sodium chloride solution. He never asked why.

“Pour mieux ont aimés et perdus, beaucoup mieux.” Bert Jansch (allegedly)







      1. Trying to turn around a difficult year. Would somebody just fry up that stinkin’ “Fire Rooster”? 😀 I think it’s getting better. Wishing all good things for you and yours.

      2. I had to look that up on Google. ‘The Fire Rooster is an extremely strong willed and proactive person’? Frying up seems a tad on the harsh side, or am I being my usual stupid old fool self…I’m told I’m quite good at that.

      3. I thought you might of been speaking about Mr Trump! Mind you, I wouldn’t like to be your boss…in fairness, 87 years ago when I was a boss of sorts I like to think I was OK. I married one of the staff, at least.

      1. It is a great pity that such trust goes unreciprocated. I mean, I don’t ask for much, yet still those yes of hers dart this way and that, seeking motives!

  1. Okay, I can’t even pick my favorite phrase here. This is a barrage of of whips and sucker-punches with language. This knocks a reader down, gobsmacked, leaves them shaking the stars out of their heads on the ground, watches them stagger up, and smiles because the reader’s determined to go through it all again, and again. Cheers, Master Steeden. xxxxxxx

    1. Well, I’ve been so busy doing this and that all bloody day I’ve had little time to respond to comments. Not so this one, Ms. Lee. I am most pleased you both liked about it and thought about it. It came to life when, in a dark mood I decided that horizons were my prison walls. Why I thought that at the time I know not. Cheers, you’re a good sport.

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