Time slipped through my fingers. We took the train, I took off my sweater. The weather, unexpectedly warm. they knew I was stoned.
We unpacked. the wrong flag, above our castle. We contemplated using magic markers. We ate Mexican in one of London's finest. We sat on bins and took photos of Big Ben. I bought a beer in secret, I hid it in my bag.
I woke up drunk, I slept sound. We ate stale toast and jam. The sun was high, on Saturday, at 8am. Time slipped through my fingers.
I vomited chocolate milk. We humiliated ourselves for a cause, just cause. My elder threw herself, at a man, blew up a condom, insulted her husband. They gave us one free beer. One half-price pie.
We smoked in the cold for two hours. My lip bled. The cabby was from Sussex, the hot water broke. The lights wouldn't work. We spoke about our homes.
Three of us wore heels. Two of us clicked. One of us was selfish. Time slipped through my fingers.
I wished the hotel had a pool. I stole fruit, an apple and a pear. We talked about the way men smell. A man stole two sandwiches and I pretended not to notice, she made a racist comment.
I was honest, two sat backwards, two faced forward. We walked the lengths of the cabins looking for a Coke, a snack. She reapplied her makeup. It was colder than I thought, we walked. We took the bus. One headphone worked. I heard a song to remind me of last winter. A weekend over.
Time slipped through my fingers.
