Real Life Dream

Five short years unfold to fifteen.

A concertina of pressed memories, well worn.
A lifetime

Of unlimited Hotch Potch favours.
Of tumbles beneath the waves,
Giggles in the sheets, roars in the mountains,
Whistles along the winding roads and
Yaps behind the wheel.

This lifetime ago, the pup and the puss meet on a beach.
No ordinary beach.
It was a place where fish sought bicycles.

Where magic was manifest
And beats ricocheted off boardwalks at dawn.
Opera Houses hummed, barely containing the vibrancy that could be found there.

Tropical gardens bubbled with intent.

And caves echoed with greeting, pulsed with new beginnings;

A colourful cast of characters were drawn together,

And everything was possible.
The pooch and the pup, firm friends, set off,
Hearts afire, armed with a bicycle, a backpack
And a collected deck of aces to play in the field.

A high-flying boldness beat in their breasts.

There was no hill that couldn’t be climbed.

Moonlighting in classrooms,
Sunning on daytime dancefloors,

Gassing in bars
Giggling behind sunglasses, beneath wigs,

They hit the open road

To find a bricolage of thalis and olive groves,

Croissants and cliffs,

A red two-man tent popping up in wild meadows across the continent.
Sun-baked roads and frosty mornings.
Biskrams and carrots in the grass.
Piazzas for pasta; Full English in the frost.

Soaring dangerous curves and flitting across borders,

Mosquito bitten, lycra-clad and unprepared.

Adventures abound, they make their own luck.
The Subcontinent swallow the pair for six highly-spiced months.

Temple walls polished smooth with devotion;

Goddess boobs rubbed to high shine.
Monolithic shadows, trains the size of towns.

The infinity of the sky on a timeless beach

Where waves crave the shore

And fish eagles catch each other as they fall.

Monkey muggings, backwaters teaming with langoustine,

The beat of the Kathakali drum

All sweetened with blistering Chai.

The Sweet Sugarhouse Story:

The riotous chapter of preordained, plant-fed mayhem

The foreground of their new London life.
Their tapestry is tightly woven now, deep and sure.

Touch the threads to find the rolls in the desert dust,

the parties in the hay.
Look for the tumbles beneath the waves with a sea monkey,
Giggles in the sheets, roars in the mountains,
Whistles along the winding roads.
Yaps behind the wheel,

Skitters on ice, rumbles in the jungle.
I’m walking beside you; as the day breaks.
The adventures give way to a dream.
Beats and antiques.
Rambles up hills and along creaks.

Stairs that squeak and a garden that traps the sun.
Surfboards and Saturday sourdough.

Sparkles and spangles and slippery nips.
Disco breakin’, money makin’, glittery tips.
Shots and sequins and sordid swords.

The pulsating rhythmical Remedy.
Super fly till the crow cries.

Drink gifting, bar buggin’, coffee brewing.

The hazy glint in the eye of the storm as push comes to shove and lush comes to form.

The future a tight whirl of cells, expanding,

The impossibility of life comes home to roost.

Full bloom.

April Fool.

Nearly born in a pool.
Ring in the spring.
Blue eyes meet ours,

Our sun has risen.

Next adventure starts here.

~ LTC. 21-May-2020