in the north they say we are hard headed which isn’t a compliment, who has a hard head unless it is full of rocks? me, i’m just southern on my daddy’s side so the only hard part of my head is my chin, pointy and sharp like a little dagger. just right to prise open the doors of rooms i was never meant to enter, hell, to prise open the whole world like a reluctant oyster while i sit on my haunches and croon gimme gimme gimme into the slit. but you know i learned early that sometimes you get the pearl baby, and sometimes just the salty gooey mess. let’s say i’m familiar with both.

but i’ve been doing this a while, i’ve got some kind of collection and pretty soon i’ll be ready to cruise down the high street naked except for those pearls i’ve winkled out, i’ll dot them all over my body so they catch the light and i am glowing like the moon. on a half shell i’ll make my stately progress throwing figs at you onlookers like the ones my grandmother used to come back with (come back is a double headed direction) —come and eat them sticky, this juicy, come taste this honey, come crown me venus di calabria, bow down.