Golliwog in, Golliwog out

He sat and sipped his coffee as she watched intently, a milllion thoughts firing the her mind. her mind, the atelier of most things in her life, whether or not concrete. A million thoughts fired, as he sat and sipped his coffee. Like an art, his coffee sipping. not delicate, and yet, not quite brash, nor bold. it's artful sipping.

The gallery owner was overseas and she had managed it quite badly. Point of conversation this morning as he sipped his coffee was the Roslyn gallery. The amonut of debt was unthinkable. Bad management, how it could be so destructive huh? She nodded. The sipping turned brash as he frowned at her disatisfied at her nonchalance. She sighed, this time resolved to let go for she knew what was in her heart, no need to explain, no need to explain. She was interested, and what he said was interesting, she just did not react the way he wanted. This time, she let go. The golliwog peered in.

Take the golliwog out.

She watched him intently. Golliwog spoke, she swore the golliwog spoke.

Take the golliwog out!

She peeered into the window, and watched intently. He sat and sipped, she watched and listened as he spoke. She peered into the window, she peered back out.

Take the golliwog out.

And then in the attic. Salt-fish cafe, fish-cakes and salted coffee, the specialty. And the familar comfortable picture. Emotions, senses as you stare at the picture. Senses which washes your body with a sense of relief, and your mind almost immediately relaxes as you smile. And that the heart stopped as her lips curled with disgust, golliwog in the garden of the salt-fish cafe. Golliwogs in her attic.

Take the golliwog out.

And he stood and smiled.

She watched intently and peered in the window. The atelier of most things in his life, his mind. A window. Clear blue sky, noon-day sun. Emotions and senses washed over her body again. And there at the edge of the painting, the sillhoute of a quarter of a golliwog, running.

Golliwog, golliwog, gone.

Peer in.