It was some kind of night-time circus down on the seafront. I crawled under the tarpaulin with my bottle of Thunderbird and sat in the sawdust watching the show. People doing African dances in dresses made out of oversized leaves. A bloke came and sat on the floor next to me; he had that sweet smell of long unlaundered clothes, BO, and cheap tobacco. When we finished the bottle he offered me a blowjob. I think I said “no”.
October 10, 2012
This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 10th, 2012 at 11:08 am and posted in New poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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