Monsoon wind fuels the flames in the fireplace,
and the curtains are blooming like wild flowers in spring
(with a full moon shining center stage, of course,
and feeding silver pollen to vampire butterflies
that hide in the roof beams.)

Red wine brings out the glow of new love in her eyes,
under which bags filled with lust sag with each sip of Merlot,

It felt like an eternity before Janine hit the ground; in mid-air the world twisted and turned like elephant trunk muscles, and there was an angry silence ringing in her ears. The world flashed white when her left hip (and arm, bent awkwardly behind her back), made contact with the shoulder of the dirt road.

A shadow-melting sun crept through the leaves,
and perforated your eyes
when you looked at me and said your ‘wings’ were cramping up;
I smiled (‘wings’ also in a bit of a twist), pretending to be strong
(as Tree House Angels are),
and ignored the red exclamation marks in your dimples
while your tiny feet click-clacked away,
down the bamboo ladder steps.

Shock and confusion tied a knot inside Janine’s stomach. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, gaze fixed on the open front door through which she spotted her intruder, a khaki-clad park attendant sprinting across a perfect kikuyu lawn. He was waving his arms, shouting: ‘Madame-Docter!

Morning rays lit up the middle of the VIP rondavel where Janine stretched her arms over her head. Against the white of the bed sheets, the bruise on her shoulder looked as if it had turned gangrenous-green.

Kruger National Park, South Africa, three years ago

“Eye-snot, eye-snot! You have eye-snot!”

‘Tommy?’ Janine mumbled; she thought she had heard her Sunday school friend’s voice. A fuzzy feeling came over her: My soul’s half-trapped in a dream-pool, and slowly being reeled in back into ‘the real world’.

Janine was still chewing when she returned to the living room. Her cheeks were greasy, and a piece of broccoli dangled from her chin like an upside-down banzai. She closed the Tibetan monastery doors Mark had bought on eBay, and ran her fingers over the splintered red wood.

Danny brushed Janine’s shoulder (harder than necessary), crushed the remnants of the ceramic fish vase head under the heel of his shoe, and slipped through one of the aluminium side sliding doors that flanked Doctor Shepherd’s desk. The air-con contributed to the tense atmosphere by cutting out and draping the entire office in a cloak of silence.

Not taking her eyes off the patient, Doctor Shepherd picked up the red folder on her desk and put the back of the fountain pen in her mouth, highlighting a set of yellow, crooked teeth. Holding the pen there, as if in deep thought, the clinician’s eyes darted back and forth between the words scribbled in black on the front cover.

The tide is high, and so are the girls—
bikini tops bouncing through bonfire swirls.
He picks up his surfboard, and gives it a wax—
those waves are raunchy over the cracks
in Ocean’s teeth, rotten with glee;
too many lunar milkshakes—
or at midnight, iced tea.

KL413,

I can see you, and I know you are reading this. No, don’t pull that face and don’t look around—those two guards wearing the yellow riot police helmets staring at you will only become suspicious. Keep your head down, keep the Reader in the palm of your hand, and keep walking.

Good. Now pay attention.

June 30, 2005, 9:01am

Janine was still chewing on the last piece of her apricot jam ‘sandwich’ when Nurse Tomoko stopped the wheelchair in front of Doctor Shepherd’s office door. The nurse took out a handkerchief, wiped the patient’s mouth, and dabbed at the front of her hospital pyjama-top. Nurse Tomoko flipped open the lid of her pocket watch. Thirty seconds to go.

Janine swallowed her giggle, and choked; Nurse Tomoko was walking back from behind the hospital counter after having had a private discussion with Nurse Legrange, the Smurf-like elderly woman who Janine thought had done a rock‘n’roll pantyhose knee-slide over the polished hospital floor.

Nurse Tomoko was pushing Janine in the wheelchair; they took a left outside the bathroom, and were cruising down the west wing corridor, the rear wheels screaming over the polished hospital floor. ‘You must be starving. Let’s get that toast and apricot jam I promised you.’

Even with her left arm around Nurse Tomoko’s neck, Janine’s legs buckled the first time she tried to get on her feet. The nurse, whose right arm was around Janine’s waist, lost her balance and let go— the hand was stinging. Janine sank—shrank—away from her and fell backwards onto the bed, dragging Nurse Tomoko down with her.

Clive-O used his head for a change, and brought over the Betadine, an alcohol pad, and a bandage. Dan-the-Man made a fleeting hand gesture: Don’t get too close to her, pardner; this Jap-nurse-bitch ain’t right. Cliv-O didn’t see his amigo’s signal but he was more or less thinking the same thing, anyway—he approached as though walking on landmines.

‘Come on, honey, it’s time we get you cleaned up, and then we’ll go and grab something to eat. I’ll make arrangements for you to meet with Doctor Shepherd a little later in the afternoon—you’re in no state.’ Clive-O cleared his throat as if to say I don’t think the Doc is gonna be too happy about that decision.

Weskoppies Psychiatric Hospital, Pretoria West, South Africa, three years ago

Janine noticed that the smoke, caused by the burning of the first photo, was bubbling over the mantelpiece like drunken pirates’ breath, shaping incomprehensible obscenities that her brain wanted to recognize.