The man had ebullient hair
So vibrant, thick and wind-swept
James Dean, Elvis-quiffed brilliance

“Hair envy?”

“No.” Yes, he thought sourly

Dressed all in black. Black boots, black turtle neck, black trousers, black brolly clutched in hand, like Sir Lancelot wielding his sword, if rain were to attack this would be the chap to turn to. If you look closely he even has a micro pin, stuck in his very black tie

The man paced with purpose, head bobbing to the rhythm of some internal monologue

This offbeat John Steed, Beat-inspired Warhol, into the breach he goes, holding a Homeland DVD box set, thinking this format is retro

“I’ve still got a VHS you know, a typewriter and a four track, but I digress.”

The man, sweet-faced innocence, tinged with experience, is gone. A ghost of youth, in these dusty streets of our childhood


You’re still here, I can hear you, see you climbing my back wall, taking your BMX for a spin. Forever young and brilliant

Funny how things turn on a six pence this world of existence. All existing now and always

Copyright John de Gruyther 2018

For Karen and Mike

For Craig (You burn brightly in my memories)


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