"Have you ever thought of poetry?" The words flashed through my skull like a frantic ferret, prancing up and down over dissassembled matter falling round its feet.
- like a cat with dog in pursuit. Wavering heads nod - the dog's tail and hind end dissappear over the edge of the field.
And, just like that, your dreams and ideas fall away swimming downstream.
Just as suddenly a geyser of grey blue clouds rise above. They are carrying a pink baby, the last one done.
And you doze off again in the quiet rain of the household. Thoughts are asleep there without the effervescent clatter of jack hammers or the swishing of a nightmaiden's forest.
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