Roses are red, violets are blue, I don’t know, how about.... Skipping chants, I could just pick out skipping songs from somewhere distant. Skipping songs in faded voices a long way away in the past, metallic echoes of little girls´ skipping songs, bad a ba da ba da ba da....bad a ba da ba da ba da....Roses are red....
After summer showers there were always what seemed like huge oily lakes all over the roads and pavements, wondrous, astonishing lakes of colours.
After this remarkably heavy summer shower there were stupendous oily puddles shining all over the road and pavement, rivers of gay colours sparkling, cascading in the gutters and into drains.
The neighbours’ pretty little golden haired girl came by and stood beside me and glanced up at me staring at our rippled multicoloured refractions, at her first communion dress, all virgin white, a silver medallion around her neck on a long silver chain. She looked down, clear blue eyes, into the waters, the silver blues sparkling off rusty browns, then stared back up at me, proud, and trusting and terribly innocent. I held on to her little pale hand just a little tighter and we both took a couple of steps forward into the gutter, red patent leather shoes and little white ankle socks sort of walking on the water.
She smiled me a sweet toothy smile, but wanted to move back, her sharp blue stare becoming more imploring, so I took her other delicate hand in my left, held both her sweet hands a little more roughly and, face to gorgeous face, jumped up and down madly in the puddle, as kids are wont to do because puddles are just such a temptation, until she was dirty soaked and her dress was just slightly oily grey transparent. She was screaming, and tears were running down her reddening cheeks, but the sound of her horror was as distant as the skipping songs from yesterday’s memories, all hollow and tinny, and I just couldn’t control my hysterical laughter.
“God told me to do it!” I got out between sobs of painful laughter, whilst, all around everyone else was saying it was the devil in me.
Now, that is a high profile dispute, if ever there was one.
