On "of Deceit" - A response

Have my eyes deceived me?

I come to the party on my own, and move to the dance floor. It’s OK being alone when there are thousands more around me. I do my crazy dancing, and get caught up in the pulse of the multitude, drawn like a drop of water into a wave.

I see a rainbow javelin; a luminescent and shimmering needle, heavenly colours, sparkling in fairy dust; it beckons me but I’m sort of scared by it. Turning round, a girl hands me an emergency poncho, and a drink from the chill out cup. Firm and solid to the touch, I feel the handle and trace the circle of the rim, and then a nectar flows over my hands. My hands have deceived me. Cup is not a cup.

The poncho girl is back – she’s got a friend with her, “my half-life brother” she says –and offers me a hard plastic bag to put on my head. It’s kind of heavy, it’s very heavy and throws me off balance. The poncho pair catch me and draw me towards the Adonis leaning against the wall, the sweat from his dance floor exertions trickles down his chest. I move toward him, drawn to him, but he does not want me – he wants to wrestle with the half-half siblings, dance with the javelin, surf the wave and drink from the cup.

Kate MacNeill, December 2015