badger11 Posted August 6, 2018 Her tiny hands crush the fresh orange. A moon implodes - pips launch into space. I sip a camomile tea and crayon the consequences between supernova and nebula until gravitating to earthly things. My list of ten. I hoover. My little goddess wants to be a chemist and holds up fingers daubed with a sticky, primeval ooze. Her mouth opens up an evolution of mud and bellow. A salamander swallows the sludge of fruit and nut. I wash the breakfast dishes. A bee ... amazed by the pink blossom of the curtains, head butts the glass. I empty the dregs of last night's burgundy red, swallowing the buzz. An astronaut and his alien friend come into view. They've made a racing track, almost a figure 8. The human shouts:second comes last and first comes top. My name's Car-Crash, and that car's mine. I gulp a mug of tap water. My mind a hexagon frenzy of beehive memory. I dry the dishes. A spoon, a moon, a knife .... The astronaut crashes, always, because all aliens know the track should be a perfect O. The alien head nods in a measured and dad way, and life feels reassuringly extraterrestrial. I offer an E.T smile with two glasses of fizzy lemonade and press a button on the washing machine, cooling system, remote control - a capsule casually spins out of orbit from the gravity chain that links my list of ten. It plops into my tea. I drink. I dust. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
eclipse Posted August 17, 2018 Amazing narrative..well done... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
tonyv Posted August 18, 2018 Just when I finish reading one of your best works ("The Curator's Confession") I come across another to share space at the top of the list. This is fine writing. The working title definitely caught my attention, but this title is perfect. Tony Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
badger11 Posted August 19, 2018 Thanks again both. Yes, so much depends on a title hook! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites