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The music don’t feel like it did when I felt it with you


I heard Womack & Womack singing Teardrops.

“Footsteps on the dance floor, remind me baby of you,
Teardrops in my eyes, next time I’ll be true.”

Whenever I hear that song, I think of you. 

We heard them singing it live
and they wore yellow raincoats
because it was cold and rainy.

And that song still makes me think of you.

I ask myself questions.
How the fuck did we adopt you?
Where did you come from?

Blue jeans, leather jacket, and slicked back hair.
Skinny as a rake and nice legs that were shit at football.

We called you Boy.
Because you were young and cheeky,
naive, impressionable, eager,
and needed someone to look after you.

Things went wrong in London, 
something to do with drugs,
and you reached out to us.

We were the big brothers you never had.
Shaping your life, leading you astray.
Pumping your ambitions. 
Picking you up when you fell.

Your parents loved us and thanked us.

“And the music don’t feel like it did when I felt it with you,
Nothing that I do or feel ever feels like I felt it with you.”

When you wanted to go out.
Just the two of us.
Week after week.
Somewhere quiet to talk.
Something to say.
But we never said what we wanted to.

That obsession with Dirty Dancing.
It played in that white car of yours,
and Belinda Carlisle sat in the back seat
singing Circle in the Sand.
But there was only us.

When your head rested in my lap, 
and your hand squeezed my thigh
and stroked my leg. 
They said you were drunk,
but I knew different.
I went to bed happy.
I can still feel that gentle hand.

When you went to a sauna,
and begged me to go.
An excitable boy who wanted to learn.
But I wouldn’t go because I wanted to do whatever they did to you.
I didn’t tell you that, and I regret it.

That afternoon in the rain,
when Womack and Womack sang Teardrops,
I should have said come home with me.
Stay in my single bed.
Let me hold you and care for you and love you.
Because I think you would have done,
and everything might have been different.

“I took a crazy chance,
And next time I’ll be true, I’ll be true, I’ll be true.”


The thrill is gone / It’s gone away from me

Ode to Saltburn / Murder on the Dancefloor

Charlie / The bossy boy has me at his command

Charlie asks me if I would rub tanning lotion onto his back because he’s off to Barcelona again.

“You’re from France and are naturally brown,” I tell him. 

“I must look my best for the beach.” . 

We are in the kitchen and Charlie, in just his underwear, gives me a tanning glove and sprays Gatineau Golden Glow onto it. 

“Rub it all over my back please.” 

It feels like I’ve got a glove puppet on my hand, and he drops his underwear slightly so that I can see the crack of his arse. 

“Everywhere please,” he commands, and I’m obliged to rub lower until I’m stroking the tops of his buttocks.

The bossy boy has me at his command and he’s asking me to do something intimate. I have mixed emotions. Excitement and sadness.

I decide to test him.

“You should have asked Levi. He would do a better job.”

“I cannot ask him,” he replies, “because he will tease me and say that I am trying to seduce him.”

I think that Charlie might be afraid to ask Levi because he likes him… probably loves him… and I’m sparing his embarrassment.  

I feel jealous. That critical word which can have catastrophic consequences.

“Would you like to seduce him?”

“Never,” he says scornfully. “Levi is a clown.”

“Have a good time in Barcelona,” I say. 

“Thank you. I will do that, but I shall miss you.”

That Moment/ I am still sitting here

That Moment / I pretend I am on Snapchat

Image: Darkness Drops

The boy is short. The boy is cute. He is cheeky. He is tired, and sucks his thumb. He keeps looking. I took a photo of him on my phone. I look up and I realise that he’s taking a photo of me too. I smile at my phone and pretend I’m on Snapchat. He does the same.

Happening All Over Again

Thomas gave me a present. It was a disposable vape with ten thousand puffs and tasted of pineapple lemon. I must get out of the mindset that this small gift means something. After all, we’ve hated each other for fifteen years, and one kind gesture means nothing, but it was nice.

Today, I visited a new Scandinavian Cafe a few streets away and thought that this would be a good place to write the book that I will call ‘Loving Thomas’. I also thought it a good place to invite him one afternoon.

We’ve realised that we work well together and are an impressive team, but I’m reminded of a Lonnie Gordon song from 1990 that was called ‘Happening All Over Again’.

I remember you as you were


To those who came before,
Memory did not age us.
You did not grow old.
I remember you as you were.

The years dimmed the soul,
And the intoxicated dreams.

To those with dark hair,
And blonde hair,
And somewhere in between.

To those who came and went,
That looked like angels.
Fresh and slender,
With charms and flaws.
I remember you as you were.

Time is not kind,
It stole the looks,
It disguised the figure,
It aged the soul.
The handsome heroes departed.

Sweet youth blown away.
I might recognise you now,
But I choose not to.
Because I remember you as you were.

And love, love is on it’s way

That Moment / Little boys grow up to have problems too

His head was shrouded in cigarette smoke, and when it cleared, it was a frightened face that peered from the hoodie. His eyes were sore from crying and my heart went out to him.

I’d heard stories about people like this, and the extreme measures they might go to. I tried to put him out of my mind and walked past, but the voice of a concerned mother called out for her little boy. I went back and asked him if he was okay.

There was pleading in those troubled eyes, and I realised that little boys grow up to have problems too. He told me that he was fine, and I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He shook his head and stared at the puddle where he’d tossed his fag end.

I wanted to stay longer and help, but I didn’t. These were conflicting emotions, guilt, curiosity, embarrassment. I wanted to put my arm around him and tell him that everything would be fine, but I walked away.

A trembling voice shouted thank you, and I prayed that he would soon find the happiness that had abandoned him.