Sweetly the rain played on our skin as we walked together across the park. "I dont mind if it pisses down" I said, "the reservoirs are running low". "That's all them people keep flushing their toilets" you offered, "wasting the blood of the life of the Earth". "Don't you flush yours then? Surely after a while it would become more a question of hygiene than of environmentalism." You frowned slightly as the sun came out. "Hygeine is bourgeois bullshit man, I'm 100% Organic!"
I considered countering this but you changed the topic as we passed through the iron gates of the park into the Railway Village. "I'd like to live in one of these pale houses...the theme of the town was 'pale' until they put in all those bright lights dazzling shoppers into spend, spend, spend." I wasn't aware of these lights but I didn't go shopping so couldn't be sure if they were real or not. Then it was The Gluepot and Summer Lightning on wooden benches while Brazil put Chile in their place, gearing up to face the golden-booted Conquistadors in the semi-finals of the cup. We considered betting on the game but noticed the barrel in the middle of the floor concealing the crater where a dissident Republican bomb went off all those years ago. I grew worried the Plain Clothes could tell by our shared look of concentration and empathy that we were having a degree of mind transferral regarding this incendiary issue; we would need to be guarded in our thoughts. Thankfully then a natty girl walked in and violated our dangerously spiritual air. Oh, the fabulous country girls of summer-time! "Let's move" I said, having lingered too long on this solid body thinly disguised by gauzy fabrics, and you agreed without questioning my motives. "Dude, the rain's stopped: let's look for a crock'o'gold!" you enthused, failing to bowl me over. "I don't know, I've had some trouble with leprechauns lately..." And then you knew, "you blatantly fancy that girl --never mind! Just taste the rainbow..." and I followed your bony arm upwards...sure enough the bright spectrum was beaming across the sky and from somewhere I could here Dorothy singing about a place where the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true. I smiled at you then and said, "next one's on me dude".