May

A light bulb is burning out as the sun sets. Talking heads on the TV. Fuck off and give me peace. The window’s open but the air isn’t moving. The shadows stretching long across the floor. I can hear a train moving through the city, there and then gone. Who the fuck even watches TV anymore. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my face as I open a beer, cold from the bowl of ice, and just hold it to my neck.

May in the city has got me dreaming of the winter.

It nearly killed me last year but it was a quicker death than this.

It used to make me laugh. I’d be walking by the beach in summer, people everywhere, big queues for ice cream, women in bikinis, guys in swimming trunks, everyone everywhere melting. Over by the water there was a church group from overseas in big thick coats, like you’d wear to the football in January or February.

The sun’s an outlaw most days.