In the high tide hiatus floating high on
tiny waves a sponge laps the rocks
piled up to the glass wall. Bright blue
it is, with sugary icing. The gentle rain
torrents delightedly down the walls,
through the rocks
into the ocean again.
Inside, the large low table is white.
At the head is a squat square-cut
charcoal black armchair deep and
comfortable, curving up from the
floor at the foot of the table to settle
against the broad white pillar.
Its pair is at the other end,
turning it’s back to the ocean, and between;
two huge matching two-seat settees.
To sit at the table, climb over
the seating. Three large grey-bone
coral candlesticks punctuate the line
between the armchairs. Grey-silver cutlery and
black serviettes define the seating,
as does the list on each cushion.
Tick your choices with the pencil.
“She will sit just there, perched
on the settee edge, long black
skirt; short black hair: mother-of-
pearl complexion: red bandanna:
broad shoulders and muscles,
accentuated by striped black and white
“Surreptitiously searching the
ocean with her dark eyes, while
everyone wonders again about her tattoos.”