Lemonade, dancing, a hot day

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Outside, on the footpath, (a hot day), is a child with a can of lemonade and a family. He is spinning around the post just outside my door, slender and agile, spilling none.

He turns and dips around his mother. She’s standing in the shade, using her phone. She says: Please concentrate on what you are meant to be doing. And he, in acknowledgment, turns faster, round and round, spilling none.

There’s a sibling sitting in the front seat of the car, door open, hot seats, sticky with his own drink and watching on. The dancer dips and hoots, making outrageous angles with his head and elbows.

Spins…

…around the post, around his mother, dances madly for his brother. The brother nods.

Back to the post, a cool metallic partner that supports his smooth zigzag to the ground and back up into the heat. Spills nothing. It’s time to go.

Mum says, ‘Use the bin,’ and he does, smoothly.

They leave.

 

Artwork by Denis Gonchar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Herge’s Pirouette

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A couple told me this morning that they have come here all the way from Murray Bridge to get a sausage roll. And that they have a granddaughter who is a devil for reading. The book she wants is the one about the little girl who can pirouette! Over and over, the girl in the books does pirouettes out in the never never. Would I happen to have it?

I didn’t.

They were also anxious to get some Rin Tin Tin, hard to find these days but very good comics. They were so happy. They described their granddaughter who pirouettes all over the house, and how they all love the Rin Tin Tin comic books! She said that food and books go together, and he said that books go well with a gin and tonic. He said that he grew his own vegetables.

Later, when I was closing, I told Steve about the flooding here last week, and he told me that he’s glad he shifted up near the water tower because at least he is safe there. The people in the house that he was in before would have been completely underwater, at least he hoped so. Then he drove off in his gopher with two more James Patterson paperbacks jumping about in the front basket. He reads Westerns, Alistair Mclean, and James Patterson. He says that nearly everything else is shit. I asked him has he read the Tintin books, and he said that they sound like shit too!

Photography by Rubee Hood