The house is quiet.
It overlooks the breede river
and grey sea beyond.
Wind-curled waves chase each other in the heat of the retreating sun.
A lonely house stands sentry at the
Wall
Where the sea and the river meet.
I sip my beer.
It is the seventh.
The unlucky first of a second
Six pack.
Corpse-cold.
Pushing me into comfort
Dispersing the cares of the world
The sentry is a sullen
Memory
"it is our house." she used to say.
A dream within a dream.
Inception.
A burp breaks the silence
Or a fart.
I cant tell.
The beer bottle
Falls
Empty to the floor.
It doesn't
Break
And i reach for another.
Eventually they will stem the tide of
memories.
