I look at this imaginary painting on the wall –
A man is standing on an Irish cliff with the morning dew glistening
Upon the grass as green as green can be
And in his unruly beard that is sometimes more brown than red,
Other times more red than brown.
The sun is in his eyes and he’s squinting.
In the distance where he is looking
There is a roiling sea with a small ship rocking on it.
Two women are on that ship, on their way to stand also on the Irish cliff
Where the dew will cling to their bare feet and hang from the hems of their long flimsy skirts.
One woman is with the man of the unruly beard where the red and the brown do battle.
The other woman, she will be waiting for me to join them.
I contemplate for a moment trying to get to them as my tea is cooling off
Then
I go to the bathroom to shave.
After that I brush my teeth and get into bed.
It’s getting late and I have wake up a little earlier in the morning
To wipe the morning condensation from the car windows
So I can go to work
Because this time of year the morning weather can be a son of a bitch.

– John Tustin