Couldnt find a mirror in my boat to check if my opshop coat looked ok. i took photos of myself armslength with my phone. with my felt delivery driver style cap and jacket i looked, with my gaunt cheeks and frown like an out of work depression era cannery worker from dustbowl america.

at the club i lurked artfully and made subtle dance insinuations. mindful of local sensibility. i met people who remembered me playing for the footy club. a girl said your dad died she said mine did too. a girl hugged me and said well done for riding the unicycle. random but nice. i was offered a smoke. i felt very tired and a bit overloaded as i havent been around people much. i went home when i should. someone grabbed for my cap but i shrugged to the inside they missed i hate that. i made it home with my wallet and keys. thats all i feel okay, wise enough to survive, just. marginal. i still love to dance.