VOICES FROM THE FIRE: Stephen Whitter

Walked the Walk

‘Perhaps you fancy, you know if it’s a nice day next Sunday a little walk along the beach maybe.’ I said.
Feeling like a would be suitor in a second rate period drama.
Then somehow I instantly made it worse by saying ,
‘Or we could walk in the park you know, the nice wooded part’

The young lady riled, replied,
“Oh yes sure Steve, and why don’t we, or rather you get completely pissed and stoned and waste my one day off
talking crap speaking to your scuzzy mates and the sleazy young bits they call their lady friends.
Oh but it’s different this time because I have, oh the delight, my own special invite.”
“Well I’m flattered of course Steve, especially as everyone we know seems eager to explain to me you’re clean”
“Just don’t expect me to believe a thing and don’t expect my RSVP.

I knew it was over between us a long time before the ‘final bell’.
Lots of little things help one tell, and so perhaps reprehensible,
I accept that now but I thought I would wait and see just how,
long before the end game would begin.

Perhaps, as my Father’s friend quipped she couldn’t find a fat
lady who could actually sing.

I thought it could be a number of things, it wasn’t  that she lacked
the guts to tell me to sling my hook.
But on reflection, if she lacked me she lacked something she could
not do without.
And I was strictly her ‘back door man’ her ‘go between’, my friends
were not keen on her and they were not her ‘cup of tea’ and so
I set something up for her and ‘two became one’ and because well, excuse the pun but she was a ‘cut above’ a junkie, or so she thought, that one.

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