Last Sunday me and Sal went down to a festival; I’ve never been there – lived in London all my life but never been to Brick Lane, big old scruffy streets, market stalls everywhere. There were thousands of people; all the curry places had tables outside, Indian shops with models wearing saris and bangles in the window. We were proper laughing at the waiters trying to drag us in to eat. Halfway hammered, sky shining blue, we sniffed out a boozer with a stage in the front yard, music playing loud.
‘Fucking excellent’ I thought; we grabbed some beers, got a couple of keys up our snozzers, started dancing and laughing at all the dickheads with stupid haircuts.
That place, the worst clothes – like Bananarama or Toyah or some 80’s shit? What a state. I was pretty fucking legless; a band came on the stage, guy in a red jacket, jumped up, bouncing about, shouting. I was thinking, ‘I know that geezer, where have I seen him before?’…
Some people just have those faces. He shouted, the band were brilliant, loud, mental, he pulled down the balloons - big gold playground ones, 200 of them, crazy bastard. He jumped, flew into the audience, landed on me, rolling about on the floor! Grabbed his cock, got it out, rubbed his crotch in my face, and Sal, she just stood DYING with laughter. The balloons flew off to the sun, melting in the glares. I never laughed as much in my whole life. I thought I was gonna piss, I swear John..
There was a reggae sound system inside, heavy, it reminded me of when we went to the blues clubs in ’89; the room was dark, they played all that stuff we used to love, slow jams and dancehall. I was shaking my big fat ass, loved it, stuck my head in a bass bin; bought some pills off an Italian bloke for old time’s sake. Proper sorted us out. We did some shots; the lights and bass were so intense, my brain flipped out. It was so long since I heard those tunes. I was wasted, throwing up; but I was smiling. The joy was a million times stronger than anything I had ever felt, just a pure drug rush. In the middle of the dance floor I saw you.
I thought ‘Fuck am I tripping or what?’, but you were there and my heart was beating double quick;
‘This is it, he’s back, we’re out on the town, we are love, we are beauty; together we are one.’
I blinked, then I realised that you weren’t there after all; just some bloke with a shaved head. I thought of you sat on your own in a barred cell, and cried. The world stopped for one second, in snapshot slow motion. I burned inside; the pills ripped at the side of my skull. The longing returned.
I swear I’m going fuck you so hard when I see you, it’ll be an explosion. I’ll kiss you and rub your back, take the pain away from everything that’s hurt you inside. I’m going to marry you, be with you forever, John. Just counting down the days now,
I love you.