Which reminds me.

Of.

A? Do you remember?

 

Walking that dog of your mum’s?

On the beach? Near where I live.

Couldn’t let it off its leash.

Coz. It would bolt.

That horrible, brown mongrel thing that annoys the living whatever out of me.

Because.

Especially.

The way you cuddle it.

Which.

Used to annoy the living whatever out of me.

 

Jealous of a horrible, brown mongrel thing.

But not Boy.

Maybe I should see someone. Professionally.

And this is coming from a dog lover.

 

I mean I have a friend whose dog can bark her age.

So I have been told.

 

An English Setter.

 

That’s a regal dog.

 

Stroked.

Petted it once.

Felt privileged.

Unlike your brown, horrible mongrel thing.

Which I’d happily kick …

 

Where was I? This was going somewhere.

Ah yes.

 

Which reminds me.

Of.

 

We walked on the beach. And the weather was gorgeous. And you were. And even your mum’s dog was. With the flowery dress. You that is. Not your mum’s dog. Your flowery dress. Which you got from eBay. And was so proud of. Which I bid for and won. And paid for. See-through. Your long legs. Your lovely arse. And you made me take off my socks and shoes. And peddle in the sea. And it was lovely, cold at first, but sooooo soothing and sooooo much fun, coz we tried to kick sea water at each other, make each other wet, then your dog, then, strange little girl, you got upset about something, something I said, can’t remember what. And wanted to go home.

 

With your brown, mongrel horrible thing.

 

Remember?

 

We went to yours. Your mum immediately sussed out you were upset. She offered you a beer. Which had me reel off a whole of potentially new entries on Fall On Me. In my mind. About parenting. Then realised I have no kids.

 

Having said that.

How cool is your mum?

 

Then.

I tried to talk to you.

Get through to you.

You, as always, wouldn’t let me in.

Just said.

That.

My.

Toe nails were disgusting.

 

And.

Then.

 

You.

Cried.

 

And cried.

And cried.

 

And your head was on my shoulder.

Not on your mum’s.

But mine.

Tho she was sitting next to you.

And me.

Tho your mum and I were giving each other looks. Eyes. Eyebrows. Trying to communicate without you noticing it.

And then.

You went up to your room.

And your mum made us a cup of tea.

And your mum and me talked until the early hours.

 

While.

 

That horrible, brown mongrel thing.

 

Was happily dreaming of.

 

Of bones.

Of rabbits.

Of your mum.

Of your sister.

Of you.

 

 

I am comparing my dates to you, aren’t I?

 

 

 

.