A city bridge

Walk of Frisson, 50

Seagulls smirking, morning mocking, as I escape her flat. My friend the city draws my progression from ape to man, my walk shedding shame for frisson. Newport has my back. My eyes drink, but for you, semantics; Castle. Bridge. Wave. Riverfront. I think of Houdini. Hello Newport, you beautiful bastard. – 50 words flash story entry for ‘Newport Stories’, November …

Woman, drinking

Chelsea Pines Inn reunion, 1998

Distant sirens, the sash window open. Amber street light making strange the white bed. “Do you remember what you used to call me?” she says, smiling sadly, as she pulls her feet under the covers. He is mid drink, and when he hears her, his drinking pace holds steady, but his eyes close. He finishes his drink. “No”, he says, …