Foreigner

When it gets like this I am a disease, a grafted organ repulsed by its host. I am Jonah attempting to wrench himself from the hostile bowels of the whale, to spew himself onto some sandy shore or desert or spot in the sun. Homeward bound down stricken home sick.

morning haze

This morning I slowly woke to the sound of kids playing on the oval at Wilston Primary and a dog yapping outside the bakery. Through my closed eyelids I could see tradies with their meat pie and Breaka; mums with a loaf of white and three cream buns; Chris from the post office dropping in for his coke and chicken and avocado roll.

I vaguely thought, "Are we driving to the southside today? Picking up a cheesecake for family lunch? Afterwards we can stop at Sunnybank for Gloria Jeans and a cheap movie."

Then I opened my eyes to a different scene. Remembered Macrgregor and Rochedale South are a day - not a car ride - away.

And the thought of a marble cheesecake from Mrs Robertson's made me feel a little bit sick.