I salute the trees. I am not magnificent but I can see everything grow. I hear the grass chattering and laughing. I stare at the oaks as they stretch like old hungover drunks after a binge.
Kicking my way through an old memory, I sit down on a bench and watch a young mother playing with her child – she lets go of the kid’s shoulders and this little fat bundle of limbs wobbles and trundles into a loving pair of arms. I light a cigarette and look over their heads towards a crumbling brick wall where I came in thirty seven seconds – a gloriously brief but exhilarating moment of savagery that left me needing three stitches in my shoulder thanks to the razor sharp teeth of an utterly destructive angel. For five nights afterwards, I would lift my head from my pillow and find one of her brunette…
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