Access At Rear

 

Good old Sam, always accommodating, as they say. We're not talking about my Sam, but that Sam. Yes, him. He was always good for access at the rear, with his nice smile, and curly hair and his forty shorts wearing hips and those thick thighs. His year twelve book said, the boy most likely to accommodate.

Ha ha. He takes his girlfriend to the footy on the weekends, he looks good in shorts, and a singlet and cool sun glasses, and he makes jokes and slaps the blokes on the back on the work site up Smith Street during the week.

Ha ha, well, that's what I thought when I saw this sign attached to a building site in Fitzroy. He's a guy’s guy, he always has been. Mental pictures of him dressed up, in a suit, crisp white shirt and tie, maybe at his sister’s wedding. Images of him hiking shirtless in the hills, perhaps with the ‘mate’ from school. He is clean-shaven, curly-haired, often flashing a bright, white grin, for which he is known. Smiley Sam. A six-pack from hours spent at the gym competing with the ‘other’ guys. “An endless photo shoot” running through my head.

The simplest thing, a sign on a shop window boarded up for renovations and suddenly wild thoughts are escaping. Not that I am complaining, it is good, it is interesting, don't you think? You are never alone, or bored, for that matter, if you have a fertile imagination, I've always said that. The things people have done in my head...