He stared at the picture, not daring to look away. He held his eyes wide open. He had. He had seen the girl turn round.
Hedgerow watch
Hedgehog
Blackbird
Sparrow
Sparrow
Newspaper (screwed up)
Bacardi bottle
Split bag of dogshit
Sparrow (same one?)
Macdonalds box
Burst balloon
Yet another sparrow
Single, grubby, running sock
Macdonalds bag, can of coke
Gap some idiot’s burnt in hedge
Burnt matchbox
The hero did
The hero did – yes, that thing you thought. The villain, though, he – yes, you’re right again. And then – but you know that.
A sign of life
A sign
a sign
of life
of life
is all
is all
I need
[pause]
is all
is all
is all
I need
[pause]
is all
is all
is all I need
[pause]
A sign of life
of life
is all I need
is all
is all
is all I need
[pause]
[pause]
[pause]
A sign
a sign
of love
of love
is all
is all
I ask
[pause]
is all
is all
is all
I ask
[pause]
is all
is all
is all I ask
[pause]
A sign of love
of love
is all I ask
is all
is all
is all I ask
[pause]
[pause]
[pause]
A song
a song
of love
of love
is all
is all
I have
[pause]
is all
is all
is all
I have
[pause]
is all
is all
is all I have
[pause]
A song of love
of love
is all I have
is all
is all
is all I have
A song of love is all I have
Written in the stars
Nothing, but nothing, is written in the stars. Except the words I felt when you held my hand and the stars fell towards the sea.
St Andrew’s Square in the sun (2)
A woman with a night-black ponytail strides across the square, one arm cradling a ginger-headed baby, the other hand holding a parasol. The shade falls carefully on the babe. The woman squints as she passes the young boy crosslegged on the grass. His gaze, and face, follow the crane’s reaching sweep across the sky and he gently overbalances, a portrait of surprise. Now, lying on his back as the grass tickles his ear, he listens to the tick-ticking of the sculpture students chip-chipping at their stone. Tourists, each with two bags, stop heavily by the sculptors and smile. Their holiday is beginning.
Deep down
I ripped open the pillows, the duvets, and emptied them out, climbed onto the wardrobe, held my breath and dove into the deep deep down.
St Andrew’s Square in the sun
Dusty-haired men lie on hi-vis vests on the grass, their hard hats an orgy of albino tortoises. A woman in silver court shoes is distraught as she drips low-cal mayonnaise down her top; the couple next to her are too engrossed in each other to notice. People wonder who that dog belongs to; and why it is wearing a muzzle. Others wonder if that smell can be what they think it is or whether someone’s lotion is cannabis-laced. A man frowns but continues writing in his small black notebook as the woman behind him reads out her credit card number and security code. He looks around guiltily, trying to say with his expression that he is a writer and he was taking notes before she even sat down. He puts the notebook down on the grass, face-up, so that she can see what he has written. She does not look round. He has no choice but to leave. As he stands, he feels his face burning. Perhaps it is the sun.
Rest. Sleep. Recover.
Rest. Sleep. Recover.
Rest. Tea. Sleep. Recover.
Rest. Tea. Sleep. Coffee. Recover.
Rest. Tea. Cake. Sleep. Coffee. Cake. Recover.
Rest. Sleep. Recover.
And I will be there to hold you.
Evening in Naples
Ross leaned on the sill and looked out of the open evening window, called by the swifts. They swerved above, katana wings cutouts against the dipping sun; below, silhouettes of scythes sped across the late-drying sheets that hung from the balconies. He had seen them at home, where the Water reached the northern sea, but here they tumbled in shrieking crowds between the close red buildings and across the shining bay. He could go and get his camera or – no, perhaps not. It was enough to see them, and hear their bosun whistles, and remember them. His heart was of the sea and his hands of the sun; their cries were in his ears, and he smiled.