BRIEF BITES

I CAN DO ANYTHING

Another re-invention chair at a cafe regular at nine, glasses perched on a nose stuck in a laptop and fingers clacking words drawing a different line. Hands moving between words and an espresso five sugars so it sits like solid. The curious woman sitting alone and rarely taking in the sights of people gone, or those emerging from situations long and best forgotten.

I can do this. Shift my focus from rooftops to mass tabletops. From four beige walls one window, to colourful humanity promenading grandly, everyone exchanging loud crass greeting calls. Anything. I can do almost anything so this self vanishes into another empty space and comes back new, devoid of having touched you, knowing you touched me too in bygone time, some other place.

I use the fuck word liberally these days perhaps making up for my damned innocence back when the word meant what it said. Now it describes everything, the phrase deliberate defence, pretence now commonplace.

Tomorrow I will buy the laptop. Next day put on glasses and the new persona. Should you pass by, maybe I won't look up and miss your coming and your going - only the small white cup framing the knowing. Fuck. Said it again despite my son's constant and curt admonishments. You have outlived so many selves, hell what's to say you won't exist in this one too, most latest, most trendiest invention - the parallel disguising the suspension of the girl mourning the transience of a King.