The Washing

He articulates with opaque and vague phrases, using complex words galvanised by blacksmiths like wood and charcoal and flame, however his arm has been broken and whilst the city rocks itself to sleep, he pours himself a long cool drink from antiquity, he dons a life-jacket and wishes he was the sea and not some nameless bar-fly in a ship called anytown, anyplace, anywhere. He dons the cloak of invisibility and flies, to a place where strangers do not care to meet. It is at this place, that he finds himself, bidden to meet the frailties of his youth whch he does and so he turns to the one good woman in his life, he hopes she remembered to turn off the washing machine.