Young mother with three to four year-old child at her side. Rowing very loudly with her own mother in the street. Fucking this and fucking that. Still checking herself out in car window reflections.
Posts tagged ‘Scraps’
The roadside wreaths wither in the sun, a short-lived memorial to the dead mother.
Around 25 years ago a lad I was at school with was killed when the motorbike he was riding crashed into a tree. A 50cc something or other. L-plates and everything.
It was all Band Aid and Toy Dolls. Howard Jones and Nik Kershaw. Way back when.
I think of him sometimes. He was a good kid. Successfully managed to cruise the difficult border between the ordinary kids and the hard kids. Did a lot of laughing. Had a little brother we called Little Dosser.
Then he died. No more visits to the chippy by the Tam O’ Shanter. No more zipping around Coton Green. Across the railway line. Past the Fox.
So much has changed since then.
He wouldn’t even recognise most of the roads.
Where are you now, Dosser?
20 years ago he came to me in New Street station when I was using a public phone. Remember the circle of aluminium booths that were in the station back then? Before the advent of mobiles? One of those.
He wasn’t very old. 20-something? He asked if I could spare some money. I said no, sorry. Firm but polite. “Oh, please, mate, I’m starvin’“.
Yeah, right, I probably thought. You’ll just use it on fags or booze. Such was my upbringing. But there was something in his eyes. A genuine desperation. I could see that.
Yet I turned away and dialled the number. When I looked back he had gone.
I sometimes wonder about him. More often than I’d like. I can see his face. That look in his eyes. I’ll always wish I’d bought him some food. Anything.
What became of you, homeless man? Where are you now?
I’ve played a few gigs with PJ Harvey in the UK.
It was fun. I did well.
She asks me to go on tour with her in America.
We walk along a meandering light brown path alongside a river.
There are broad areas of dry grass on either side. A few trees.
People rush past us on bicycles as we walk.
I want to go, but think about my wife and kids.