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Town The Willis Faber Dumas building, a solid block of black glass, held my reflection; my white face grey & my smile uncertain. A ghost me. Night time made the windows transparent & I could see the office workers in the company swimming pool, oblivious to the passers by, just beyond the glass The dark underpass reeked of piss & stained masonry, a place to be scared, but I knew no better. I came from a postcard perfect market town & ignorance is bliss, even if it is no defence. And then on Civic drive, I kissed a girl for the first time; on a bench hard by the side of a run down shopping centre. My breath cloudy on the January air; her mouth softer than I had expected & my heart racing, racing. I was 2 months shy of my 20th birthday. On its way out, the river had left a tide mark of mud studded with screaming & disagreeable gulls; we stood on the bridge & watched them. A small but significant shift had happened, & I knew things would never be the same again. |
