the pirate’s life for me

I’m on the back of Bg’s new yellow motorbike. We’re roaring through a red and black skied world. There’s nothing around us — no buildings, no people, no trees — only endless sky and grey road. Soon alongside of us appears some muddy stunt bike courses with lots of ramps and hard right-angle turns. They seem very dangerous and look freshly used, but we haven’t seen another living thing for hours . . . and how could have all this mud formed?
We are heading into another land, but that’s all we know — we have no plans and no provisions, save excitement for the hungry unknown world ahead. Suddenly, without warning, the road muddies and narrows and we find ourselves entering one of the stunt bike courses. She speeds up, the engine screams, and we hit the first ramp hard and fast. We soar off into the red-black sky — it swallows us, and I land in another dream. . . .

– – – – –

I’m at the scene of a horrible accident. Two cars are mangled together to the point that they hardly resemble the remnants of cars. Twisted metal, unnatural and grim. No one else is here, I’m looking around for the passengers. No one. No blood anywhere. No sign of what could have caused this awful wreck. The sky is heavy. Space, empty. Time, still.
With a terrible crackling and earthshaking rumble an endless pale tan wall quickly sprouts from the ground to my right — it stops about 5 feet above my head. I walk over to examine it and find the dismembered parts of a large black and blue spider, still twitching with clinging restless life. It’s head rolls around, and it fixes an expressionless eight-eyed stare on me, into me. Then speaks, “They always blame me, but I didn’t do it on purpose. I rarely do.”  ♨

moist red walls and swimming vegetables

I’m back in Viet Nam in a house which looks more like a cave-like clay hut. Some girl (and her father?) is with me and painting the walls in dusky pink and bright red. The walls are too soggy for the paint and I think the typical light green one would be better. The wallpaper is soaked and the coat won’t become even, but I’m telling the girl that it’s alright.

I’m in the locker room of a public swimming pool  but it looks more like a youth hostel dorm.
I’m talking to a fellow student about how fast I usually swim and what the record at this pool is.

I’m preparing broccoli and it’s getting too soft-boiled. ☆