the childhood road home carrying a trombone and leather bag of books ran beside a railway cutting you turned left waited for a safe moment to cross bickley park road eyed the church turned right at the junction avoiding stands of nettles to the side before reaching the bumpy bit in rain or snow or midgesi was thinking of this while walking home after meeting a colleague in a pub
sometimes going at that pace is paid in memory or perspective at that speed at this age you see retrospectively solar fuel for personal rocket packs picnic sandwiches still with bits of sand in iced bras for east timorians valet bike gratuities custom yoga mats with prayer flags sewn in law that no costa rican shall sleep without chocolate atonement soup for sharks underwater nature parks with souvenir shops that sell knick knacks to rich lapps from peasants and chimney sweeps we rose and now here we go David Ritchie, sending specially good wishes to Eric, Portland, Oregon