Dull

Dull, dull, everything's dull. It was raining and now the dull nebulous skies are admiring themselves in milky puddles. The streetlights are on and warbling to the tune of her soaked shoe soles. Click, smash, splash, warble. The knees lifting up and smashing down through the pools collected in the spaces between the warped cobblestones. The still bodies split. The water shoots up about her heel like a liquid dove's wings spreading, lifting about her ankles. She's flying on her heels through the white sea like an aquatic Achilles and the dull world parts for her. A split sea, warbling water, warbling lights, dull, dull... It's evening and everything's dull. She's walking home through the clouds and God is leading the way...


Written in March 2009 by me after a particularly dull night walking home via O'Connell street in Dublin, Ireland.