The Crow Court.

Speedy Ange laughs. Don’t know ya up from ya down, do ya. I'm all over the place. They’re cooking up hot knives in the kitchenette; Tammy and Speedy Ange. I’m failing to tune a guitar in the other room. Bare boards and candles and incense. Ash on china. I’m on my back, Tammy’s sunburst Jaguar … Continue reading The Crow Court.

How I met my future ex-wife.

My future ex-wife is a parchment faced German emigre called Amelie. She's a striking albino with matted hair that, inevitably, every winter grows to such a length that it falls across her coat-wire shoulders like, oh, epaulettes, or wings. Amelie cuts her locks back with kitchen scissors every new year's eve to her jaw, or … Continue reading How I met my future ex-wife.

English Teeth.

We sat, the six of us, on two black, vinyl settees facing each other and waited in the waiting room to be interviewed for the orthodontic apprentice technician position. A clock ticked on a wall, a cheese plant slouched by a window, old magazines were splayed on a glass-topped table. The nearest publication had a … Continue reading English Teeth.

No Glass.

“I don’t like it.” No one hears him. No one sees him. He used to think they were ignoring him, but they're really not. He is concealed. He stands within the stinking flock garden among the yellowed roses depicted on the wallpaper of the Eight Kings' public bar. Grinner pokes his nose beyond the faux … Continue reading No Glass.

Cavalier With A Candle.

05/11/73 (Waddon) Guy Fawkes' Night - which will add some vague, visual and historical, romantic poetics to an otherwise quite commonplace tale - I discovered a cat, a tiny, shadow of a cat, on the front door mat. She mouthed a yellow miaow, which is cat chat for thank you (I picked up some cat, … Continue reading Cavalier With A Candle.