Saturday 6th September



A man turned up at my door with a smile & big hair.
A black bag concealed a world he’d created for us
to play with. I invited him in, offered him tea,
strawberry jam, something hot & buttered. We sat
around the table, he showed me his things, we got
excited & laughed. Then he told me about a woman,
who came down from the north, loved by everyone
who met her. Music came out of her fingers, light
in her eyes, wild smile she reserved for the night
when cities would welcome her with open arms.
She met a man, the man was my old friend, he
welcomed her in so he could listen to her fingers.
When I met him he told me he had a band, women
only & he was happy, the happiest I’d seen him
around music in years. I thought of this woman
from the north & how ideal she would’ve been for
his band, how sad I’d not known in time to recommend
her, but I let it go. The morning of the big haired
smiling man was when I discovered that, through no
thanks to me, the man with the band was making
music with the woman from the north, touring America
& that made us both so happy we laughed & drink tea
till we fell down drunk with love.


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