We sleep late. She looks under the pillow. Still just a tooth. The tooth fairy has forgotten. The tooth fairy is tired. Tooth fairy arrives late with a boxing kangaroo computer game. But we're late. Shoes, shoes, shoes. We stagger out, we walk, the kid and I, to the tram for school. As she walks she reads a manual for boxing kangaroos. I carry her swimming stuff. Don't read that now, look at the leaves. The leaves are beautiful. Red and yellow. Orange, purple, brown. Green and gold. Look up, look up, look up. I stand in dog shit. A large gold and green pile left in the middle of the leafy street. Take her to the tram, kiss her goodbye. I smell like a large gold and green dog shit and I have forgotten to hand her the bag of swimming stuff. I am left holding the bag. Walk home again, mumble to man with dog, mumble to the woman, wash shoe (I have just two, and isn't Washoe the name of a talking chimp?), take taxi to school, give kid (who is reading computer game manual at her desk) bag of swimming stuff, wait for tram, wait for tram, wait for tram, take tram to bus, wait for bus, wait for bus, wait for bus, bus is late, bus is late, everywhere people, bus riders and bus drivers and tooth fairies, looking at leaves, standing in dog shit, bus to work.