I took the train home from the airport. It was the same journey as it had been earlier, except that now it was in reverse and I was alone with my reflection, and you were in the sky. The cloud was cold against the glass and not a jet plane was to be seen rising … Continue reading American Clouds & Greyhound Shapes.
Medication teeth, rotund in dungarees, grey dreads adorned with beads (and other Keith Richard knickknacks), Jessica shows a greeting hand. Bangles singing. In and out of the lobster and bronze crowd to The Standard. Dialects bubbling, a foam of voice. The gulls loom and retreat and shadow the pale sand, the bodies. Beyond this, the … Continue reading The Colour of The Crabmeat.
The blear of legs, Queen Street. She sat sucking can, taking hand down, some pocket job, jerk work, crumb of brown. Cigarette, coin, nothing for hours. Then nothing for hours but soup and shit sandwich. Violence, advice and compromise. She sat the step of the one-stop shop. Sometimes slept there. Squatted New Cross. One day … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [viii]
Crazy Jeannie and Pleasant Terry finally got married again. Fair play to them. But, somewhere, somehow, along the way, in exchanging names twice, they confused each other’s nicknames, so that he, at last, found her, pleasant, and she, him, eventually, crazy. The actual details of how, or why, this confusion occurred are obscure. That’s … Continue reading Unexpected Butterfly.
It started to rain, so I dripped into The Eight Kings. The usual liquid-lunchers, afternoon boozers, the work-shy, the free. The knock-off merchants, too, and the old. The two-for-one crowd with the pushy pushchair. I could hear Snoyle laughing it up with the bookie boys behind me. They were playing a game of cards. Far too … Continue reading The Definitive Slide.
Engine hum. Shudder. Someone got off, someone on. A starling of a woman, perched further down the bus, leapt from her seat with a gasp, like she'd awoke late in a grave. She gaped and gawped bleak window glass. Took what she could. Letitia counted off the clipped heads as the woman flapped down the … Continue reading And When I Sleep, Luella. [iii]