Showing posts with label words by C. Cleave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words by C. Cleave. Show all posts

Monday, May 25, 2009

In my dreams...

...the summer looks and feels like this- and it goes on and on and on, without ever getting too hot or too humid or too anything.
"Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl. Everyone would be pleased to see me coming. Maybe I would visit with you for the weekend and then suddenly, because I am fickle like that, I would visit with the man from the corner shop instead-- but you would not be sad because you would be eating a cinnamon bun, or drinking a cold coca-cola from the can, and you would never think of me again. We would be happy, like lovers who met on holiday and forgot each other's names."