Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Branches and Fringes brushing the forehead

The Captain had himself a night.

Staggering home last night along Barkers Creek after they called last drinks at the Railway Hotel I looked up and took in the wonder of a sky chock full of blazing stars. The autumnal wind blew the fringe into my eyes and I suddenly thought I was a member of East Village. I pulled up my collar and sang all the way up Saint Street.
The Captain

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