Dreams Of Older Women

Sweezus is glad to have something to do. Ghost Schopenhauer. How awesome is that.

He starts jotting notes on his notepad.

Life is a struggle. God is not necessary. There is only one question, that of existence. Science and jellyfish. The platonic ideal. Poodles.

He doesn't know much about poodles. But Katherine is sure to.

He calls Katherine.

Hello dear, says Katherine. How's everything in the office?

Heaps busy, says Sweezus. Hey, did you know Schopenhauer liked poodles?

I'm not in the least surprised, says Katherine. I can't bear them myself. Little mincers.

So you don't know much about them, says Sweezus. Bugger. I have to ghost this article by Schopenhauer. It needs a personal angle.

Turn on your computer, says Katherine, and type Schopenhauer and poodles into the search box.

Thanks Katherine, says Sweezus. You're awesome. Mother of Dragons.

You said that once before, says Katherine. I don't get it.

Type it into the search box, says Sweezus.

Katherine does, and is terribly flattered.

.........

Arthur and Flossy are still up at the clock, eating cakes.

Got any paper? says Arthur. I've got my poem.

Here you are dear, says Flossy, and a pen if you need it.

Arthur scribbles his poem.

May I see it? says Flossy, wiping the cream from her lips.

Here, says Arthur, thrusting it towards her.

She reads it aloud:

Buzz power lines strung high
From skeleton shanghai
To xray slingshot
Phallic in the sky
Under the network
Lies
The flat green clock
With gravel stones
And pointless numbers
Not in bloom
Watching
Time
Go by.

That's very good, Arthur, says Flossy.

It should be, says Arthur.

Ha ha, laughs Flossy. You might be famous one day.

She squints at the signature.

Arthur Rimbaud.

You can't use that name though, she says.

...........

It's lunch time. Everyone meets back at the campsite.

Greg, who fished from  a different canoe, has caught four large trout.

Unni is describing her Tree Walk.

Not very pretty says Unni. Some trees have been burnt in the fires. But I did see some tall ones.

We saw the clock, says Flossy. It wasn't that pretty either, but Arthur wrote me a wonderful poem.

Arthur looks surprised. He didn't write it for her.

Greg cooks the trout on the barbecue, silently, thinking of pipelines.

Gaius studies the map. Next stop New Norfolk. They should make it by late afternoon.

Schopenhauer lies back on the grass in the sunshine, smelling barbecued fish.