An extract from The Singers Tale
Nothing like feeling old and in the way.
Crowded high street, a gang of girls walking towards me –
straddled across the pavement like an impenetrable wall of young women.
Stand my ground or swerve into the gutter?
They show no sign of seeing me. Closer closer.
As if I am invisible, not here, what will I do?
‘Perhaps I should lie down and you can walk over me to save you the trouble of giving way?’
Said me to myself & I.
I am a nuisance, old and in the way
Girls laughing chatting with each other, filled with the enjoyment of their own wit.
I stand my ground.
Avoiding the gutter – refusing to be elbowed out of the way – with my bag full of vegetables – fruit – two pots of red geraniums and a loaf of bread.
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