There you are and he milling the spuds and no bother on him while the blood floated in the air and the roars evolved to screams and the light fading to dark.
The beef didn’t meet the appearance of steak and toughness would be the word best used for a texture hidden by an over zealous salt shaker
And he told them to stop the swinging
Why they asked sure isn’t the damage done
Because the juice from the cow is all I have an inclination to enjoy
Sure we’ll be finished soon
So will I so just hold on until I put the fork down on the plate beside the knife in a patrolled fashion or perhaps with the top slightly touching
And the sound from the radio is a song from a time when he was young and bolde and seeking truth and he will be humming it for the day
There was no need for what they had done but he couldn’t be telling them when he was the one who bred them into the ways of his heart
Her smile drifts from the shadows. Laughing at the strange ways of him knowing she wouldn’t be having it any other way apart from the unusual touch of his mind upon the world
The cat on the wall beside the bush where the sycamore watched the blackberries erupt in autumn yawned with the mundanity of the scene
The napkin slipped to lie on the once proud floor
I’ll be heading then he replied
Give ma a hug for us
Right then
The wind smelled of a factory in need of closing as he stepped outside and wondered where the madness ended and the sanity began
Frankie loving the words spilling from his mind