note: i posted this last night but it seems that it didn’t appear. whatever.

because i can’t be bothered writing something about today, here’s a section from my ‘travel writing’ piece to be handed in on monday. some of you will remember this scene with affection, i’m sure.

At two am it was terrifying special sauce all beef patty people sweating and smeared, no preservatives everyone’s mind made up that night decomposing in the piss and the dead noise of the speech and the just-past-pastel tones catching once and then twice on a first and then a second buttock, the Plimsoll line of her arse, and up around the waste hitched up out of harm’s way, two feet crammed into heels that don’t look too
great how you walk like your hip slipped
out and the bones have dug grooves in each other
beside the socket.
The whole thing’s falling apart , glass shard rag dolls
and the screech screech mayo-faced pink-eyed folk, big
and multiplying, but without body shapes, all of them.
You think that dress might have a flesh-eating virus in it, love?
Too late now. Four bouncers on the door.
I think I’ll leave the fries.