she wasn't to be found in the list. his eyes darted down the long line of the 'c's : chevron barracuda chimaera cigar wrasse clown toby comet convict surgeon fish coronation cod. he even ventured into the 'd's in case she had become a fugitive reluctant to be lured into giving her piscine blessing. but she wasn't hiding behind the dash dot goat fish glowing in the screen's sheen. he was becoming frustrated by this expedition at the cheapest internet cafe on the strip. the connection was slow and the air con shabby. there was no surfing here, more like weekend fishing. still he had plenty of time to find her, the fish of his dreams, to mount on his neon peach wall of digital print out pinups in his three star caravan 'lorelee'. gilbert, single since his engagement party in the local park the month sargeant peppers lonelyhearts club band was released, had to find this latest fish whose silky form had brushed against his eyelids in his best dream hours between four and five a.m, whispering like dolly parton 'my name is compliment and there's plenty of me'.
joanne burns: lure
1 October 2008