Handstands and hatstands.

Of course it is a completely different point of view with hands sensing tarmac where feet should be. As I feel the blood drain South I'm aware of exposure to the masses gathered in disbelief. I often think "what am I doing?!" Upside-down and inside-out, you make me feel. If I listen I can still hear the sound of the sea....my face covered in skirt flapping like a sail. Soon it feels normal, an everyday occurence. The crowd disperses and I am left alone. In the stillness of the afternoon the memories echo all around. A distillation of time reveals tranquility and a logic of thought so powerful I may just have to flick-flack through space as all I ever knew crumples around in concertina folds. "Yes" I said "You can put it on the hatstand.. but don't expect me to polish the badge"