Oh, the countryside, its buttery truth!
My father was a swineherd. Mother was a seer of sorts.
Have you been marinating pork?
That creamy-faced estate agent disapproved of
everything, but then her friends were pretty scrappy,
pretty wild –
I loved them.
Especially my slightly older guy.
He lived in a tall house by the docks with a few
other men.
The house was old and beautiful, rundown
of course. Big windows with a big sea view that nobody,
including me, would bother looking through.
Have you seen the lichen on those roofs, Ava?
It’s orange.
I heard you only get that type of
lichen when the air is really clean.
Farewell to that quite soon I bet!
This guy that I was seeing was warm and easy –
strong – paint-flecked,
no haircut exactly, just his hair the way it
happened to be growing after someone shaved it.
No particular style of clothes – he seemed
dressed in what he’d been given or had found.
He was a little baffled by my outfits,
What are those?
Wet-look leggings
Wet look?
Wet-look.
Wet look?
First time we slept together he slapped his dick gently,
weightily against my body, thrice –
slap slap slap
and I said,
no need to knock, just come right in.
I think I loved him, Ava.
He had no covers on his bedding, just a bare
mattress, the innards of the duvet, pillows.
It’s like a cloud, he’d say.
I’d recently had the coil put in – have you had one
