a shaker of margaritas sipped
slow after a whimpered Sunday’s
soaking no pain evident yet he
says to the swathe of damp
clothes hanging – grins at
Saturday’s sanguine effigy
how bloody little you knew he
muses – like anyone can read
weather maps but you when
we could have philosophically
stayed in bed listening to the
rain instead of being in it
I suppose the cockatoos got a
laugh – but today even they
were less vociferous which had
me thinking maybe they suffered
too and that made up for a
damp and dismal ending
© 8 February 2010, I. D. Carswell
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