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Jean weed in the road opposite the station yard by the wood – the Station Woods. I watched out that no one came. Especially BB.
Then we went and slashed through stingers with sticks until we had pink bumps all over and they were flat. The leaves were wet and doggy lets lay in them – we lay and then dug nose down to the leaf-mould snorting out loud. I buried her in leaves with just her face out and stretched between her as a log. In between us grew red hot tips
of buried fruit so poisonous – we pressed them for BB.
Out and about, we mucked and ducked and slogged through our leaf dams and ditches, welly boot filled up deeper now, we could lay out a safe home with green-furred tree roots and plaited creepers and dirt, and servings of bit soup and bark biscuits, we played at secret things behind the backs of lonelys with dogs on leads
but not BB
he could not have a dog. Beside us ran a road, narrow enough to almost jump. Jean said jump I jumped and so she jumped her knees dented with grit mine too. A car or two to scuttle from blushing with fear for nothing just for hiding too much more anxious weeing in the road opposite the station yard was just coal and coke – old sleepers tarred men and we weren’t allowed in case of BB.
Then we found a crab. Pink too and whole hard shell. A monster big one. A dead tea we supposed. Chucked out for fun in a dustbin, one of two that had grown while we were gone. We could have it. A pink secret for our home in deep. Like a star. Armour-legged and clawed, a weapon against BB. We let it be.
October 26, 2014