Let’s

The Beach
~medium- pastel
Artist: Magdalene

go

Smelling of campfires and salt air

Where the beaches are littered

With empty bottles of Casa Sauvignon Blanc

Let us recite from worn books

On a bench of driftwood

Follow children to the sea

Dip our toes into water

Speak wild songs

Say anything or nothing

Blink at the sun

Feed seagulls

Toss stones

Fall into silence

Lean into doorways

Wander curio shops

They won’t last forever

 

Come on, let’s go

Leave your necktie on the floor

Miss all of our appointments

Please

Time is passing; the end is near

Fires and floods

Disasters- waiting to swallow us whole

Or are we empty?

Who will miss us?

When all that is left is an image on a photograph, a blurry negative

Hurry up

Before we disappear

 

 

The Clean-Up Man

Roy fumbled with the coins in his pocket. A single incandescent bulb lit up each table- top. The heat in the room glowed and a smoky haze veiled the guests. He peered deeper into the shrouded depths of the room.

Paper serviettes stacked the bar. Shot glasses lined up, topped to the max, the amber liquid ready to swallow. Next to an ice bucket, a hard-boiled bouncer stood sentry. Suffocating evidence, all compliments of the club.

A stream of light demanded Roy’s attention. The beam shot from the bar, stopped just short of his foot. His gaze followed the beam; back-lit by the mirror that covered the wall behind the bar.

A blonde in a tight black dress curved against a man. He saw the light bounce off the rock that hung at the base of her neck. He heard her familiar laugh and listened as the high, trilling notes fell like glitter over the men in the room.

Her eye was on the man known as Kid. One elbow high, black glove, held his back. Birdie.

 

The Club

What a damn, good night of gentlemen, whiskey shooters, and women wrapped in mink, it was. The boys dressed to the nines and the ladies, bespoke in jewels, were there to shine. The flowery scent of Chanel No.5 still lingered on his shirt. His mother had once denounced it as the “perfume of show girls.” He knew exactly how she’d feel about the scene. “Cards, liquor, debauchery,” she’d chirp.

 

Simple Style

Cinderella coveted

~ serve yourself

a tub tray. Therefore, she fashioned one.

You can do it, too.

Measure the width of your bath tub.

Salvage. She found a plank of discarded fencing, aged is better. Cut to desired length. Grab a belt sander (her favourite accessory) and sand off the slivers and lichen.

Apply one or two coats of White chalk paint ( Annie Sloan https://www.anniesloan.com).

Stencil a royal touch (she will find her crown).

Sand again.

Wax. (Annie Sloan Clear Chalkpaint Wax.)

~ fit for a Queen

 

my darling, may you live happily ever after”