THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

Double take.

Take One.
It’s him. He’s back. In town. Been over twenty years since the last time I saw him when he was walking out the saying, ‘If you don’t want it here,’ he said, ‘I’ll take it somewhere wants it.’
Now he was standing outside the further of the two charity shops at the top of the subway exit comes out opposite the Flipper fish bar the Broadmead side of James Barton.
Flat cap; shades; grey beard. I’d know that chin and nose anywhere.
What’s he doing back in town?

Take Two: THINK OF ME
Walking to the flats from direction Ninetree, close to one of the flowerbeds near the entrance coming toward me three neighbours: Throat/Throat’s girlfriend/Throat’s brother.
I wondered if she’d look at me, say hello, or at least nod, after our few and significant exchanges the three months Throat’s been away in hospital. More than nothing she turns and bows her head away from me as we pass.
Later reading I heard coming from outside the flat:
‘…slash me. Rape me. Make me cut my hair. Then tell me you don’t want me…’ – his low rumblings punctuate the fluctuating volume and intensity of her voice – ‘so what? So fucking what you cunt? You sleep with me and then your off to score because you’re using again, you cunt…oh yes you are, we know what’s your first love, don’t we?..don’t you fucking lie…’ – responsibility – ‘…you don’t know what it is, you cunt…so what, so I slept with a few people I went out drinking with, you weren’t around, not like you…oh yes you did, just because I’m not the fifteen anymore…’ – rumbling muttering – ‘…fuck off, beating me even when I had a child in my arms…’ – ‘…yes you did, go on, you know you want to, go on, twist it, go on, tighter, you know you want to…’ – muttering – ‘…yeh, that is you, you cunt, you want to do something but you’re too frightened…fuck off, look at me, fucking look at me: scarred, short haired, raped up bitch. That’s what you think of me…’