An october in liverpool
By benafim
An October in Liverpool Hanover-street isn’t a leafy lane and I wasn’t walking ankle deep in auburn autumnal leaves, but in ketchup smeared chip paper and cruelly crushed fag packs. Black taxis by the curb waited for a fare and the wind blew cold from a grey and sulking Mercy. On its other side bleak Birkenhead, but I had no business going there Went into Lewis’s Saver Store to keep warm, but was painfully aware that I had been sleeping rough and side glances from wealthy shoppers bothered me. Outside I walked fast, a man going somewhere important, had a few coppers for a cuppa, but was too self conscious of my shaking hands. Then a stroke of luck like a rent in a black sky letting a shaft of sunlight down on me alone, a friend home from the sea, he had money, and needed someone to brag to. At a dockside pub, where every one was in need of a shave, I relaxed, with a pint in hand, listening to his fantasy about tropical islands, knew it wasn’t true, but who cares? Written March 1st, 2002 © on Mar 01 2002 08:11 AM PST 0 • 14
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"An October in Liverpool..."