Weird. When I first saw the Sorghum I didn’t know what it was. The word for what it might be came to me out of the blue while I was waiting — checking with google for what to call a fly that hovers — for my snapshot to upload.
Two slices of cold pepperoni and anchovy pizza, one more beer, and the upload went through. I shut my computer down, brushed my teeth, and curled up alone in my motel bed with both pillows hugged up under my head.
Wished you would txt again to ask to catch up for a coffee one day. Told myself if you did, I’d txt back with a ‘No.’ and hit send before I could backspace the full stop and add ‘thanks, but maybe next time.’
I didn’t get any sleep, but I had a dream that I can’t remember. I know I can’t remember it because I’m sure I was on one of my harder walks (I always climb something when I walk in my dreams, and manage to not fall off it) when my phone rang to ask me how soon I could be at the meeting place.
I’d already handed the key back in, and the engine was running. I cancelled my coffee and made straight for the sale yard.
Why do you always turn up on my walk — you and I OK with each other — smiling with me like what happened never happened?
You should have seen the cotton growing up against the bales, or the tree beside the highway with all the teddy bears nailed like Koalas to it. I swung up a private driveway and parked across the gate; collected balls of cotton from the highway in my yellow hi-vis shirt.
Still felt too embarrassed to take a picture of it with all the trucks and traffic coming past.
It never bothered me before that you didn’t go for teddy bears.
