The Tall Boy

The tall boy with the floppy brown hair over his forehead, piecing eyes, angular face, with the winsome smile, standing on the corner of my street, gazed over at me, as I rested my bag on the outdoor pub street tables to find my cigarettes in my satchel.

"It's a bit early for that, I would have thought." He looked over at me. I laughed. I kept walking. "Starting early." I glanced back.

Cute, I thought. I smiled, I didn't know what to say.

He crossed Gertrude Street and I continued towards the city.

His face was familiar, though, it stayed in my head. I know, I thought. I know him. I looked back to where he was, but of course, he had gone, disappeared up the side street and out of sight, into the morning sun.

Fancy forgetting someone you have slept with. I've always thought badly of people who do that. And bugger me, (actually, I buggered him) there I was doing it. First thing in the morning, on home turf, you don't expect it, I don't expect it.