series1bk3.2.1

 

Shiftily glancing to left and to right, I hobble  the cobbled street, noting the sight of grimacing faces, peering from upper windows, with sills filled with rotten fruit - ready to fling. Clinging to final shreds of clotheing, I climb sublimely on a public stage, to wage war with my own toes, stubbed in demeaning dance, as I prance with parrot-footed disability. Shrill piping calls for rescue all unheard, I gird my loins for the desert trek, checking the chart for a non-existant oasis, and placing dwindled faith in sheer grit.      Of all the vessels that were ever made,      am I to be this ship for life's crusade?