Vapours
Sketch of Mrs White: from 'Why Do We Have To Move.' |
(Today the
pen etches secret prettiness: a wedding commission. Can't divulge yet!)
The fire is
lit. Piping, strong and pitch-black I drink up coffee: slap mustard and garlic
all over my food. I am feeding a cold. I think it's dying. If needed, there are
offers of sympathetic soup, to drown it.
I am well
enough, after yesterday's rest, to go out to work: encased in vest, shirt, over
top, leggings, trousers, scarf, ski socks and baseball style boots.
To my
reflection I say, 'It's a look.'
I get a
look back, unconvinced, but warm.
To my
students I say, 'I smell of garlic, mustard and Vick's Vapour Rub. Any of you
have difficulty breathing, it's either because of me, or you need to stand next
to me, and I'll clear those airways.'
Comments
And I say, 'It's a picture by Lily Tequila' (she knows you by name.)
And she says, 'Oh. She's good!'
(Little one loves to draw, too.)