Oh Eastgate
The street of dreams
Broken ones
in broken bottles
Methodone guy, his bull terriers’ cock swinging with virility a taunt to his drug addled masculinity
Oh Eastgate
Gun shops and Turkish Markets
Drinkers on the steps, piss in the alleyways. Special brew and special memories looking out the window
Police in the street wrestling for coats
Roman City, medieval poverty
Eastgate, Eastgate, crapper than Northgate (Northgate’s got a cash generator).
Oh Eastgate, polish cake, friendly faces in unlikely places
Children chatting in hi-vis distraction on the walking bus journeying to the library
Oh Eastgate
Tattoo parlour, a pint of lager at 11am, the jukebox stuck on Billy Joel once again
Laundrette full of regret and idle clatter
Eastgate may have a lot on its plate but it’s full of brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers, the vibrancy of lovers
It once echoed to the strains of a Wurlitzer and even Glenn Miller
Eastgate a mad old gem, have mercy on me I’m back again
Oh Eastgate is open late but now the number 12 takes the workers home
Copyright John de Gruyther 2017
The World Outside the Window 