I sat in the empty carriage of a late night train
fighting against the drink to stay awake
the world was flying by outside
but I appeared to be going nowhere
trapped in the present
no company but for a flickering light
compared to some relationships it was heaven
then the creep walked in
he had the hair of a newborn
but the wrinkles and desperation of experience
he sat down opposite me
I made a point at looking at the empty seats around us
“Where you heading to, young man?” he asked
“There’s only one stop.” I fired back
“I meant after that.
“The bridge.”
“The bridge?”
“Yeah the bridge by the station. I live under it”
the creep looked concerned
I noticed dried spittle in the corner of his mouth
probably caused by medication
“On a night like this?! No, I insist you come back to mine. It’s real warm.” he offered.
I began to wonder if it was just dried spittle
“Do you like jazz?” he asked
I do like jazz as a matter of fact
“It’s not bad” I said vaguely
he began reeling off names of musicians I’d never heard of
“Never heard of them” I replied
“Well come back to mine and I’ll educate you” he suggested
I ignored him and his offer of tutoring
“I’ve got good wine. It’s come all the way from France” he explained.
I looked out the window
the train was passing a small town
everyone there was probably asleep
lucky bastards
I noticed the creep wasn’t wearing a coat
just a tatty, tanned shirt and some ill-fitting trousers
it was November
some time passed
“You ever been curious about men?” he finally asked
“Only when they’re staring at my girlfriend.” I answered
I noticed some fear in his eyes
he didn’t have many years left
but he wasn’t ready to go
not whilst there was so much to take.
“I bet you’ve got the perfect helmet.” he guessed
He was right
nice shape with a real smooth finish.
“Look, I’m tired, old man. But if you go two carriages that way, there’s a boy in there. Real curious. Has a saxophone with him too. Very jazzy.” I lied
the old man stood up and looked up the carriages
he stroked his chin
some of the dried spittle (or worse) flaked off
“But I didn’t see anyone. I looked. I looked in all the carriages…” he pondered
“He was asleep when I saw him. Slumped down. Easily missed” I replied
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute. Wait right here”
he eagerly shuffled out of the carriage
I got up and went two carriages down in the opposite direction
eventually the creep returned
he looked angry
“Why did you lie to me?! I thought we were friends!” he bellowed
“He’s gone? Are you sure? Maybe he got off at the last station?” I said
“There’s only one stop. You know that! You fucking know that!”
the poor fucker began to cry
He really wanted to devour me
or anyone, to be honest
he wanted to suck the very marrow from the bones of my soul
just like me and any girl I’ve ever met
we weren’t that different really
tears trickled down his face
they followed the crazy roadmap of broken capillaries covering his skin
each one told a story of how the creep had given up on shame a long time ago
he held up his shaking, pleading hands
“The cancer took away my erections! It doesn’t mean I don’t get turned on” he screamed
is this really all we have to look forward to?
Desperation?
Disease?
Impotence?
I let out a long deep sigh.
“You give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you under the bridge at the station.” I offered.
“Oh yes, young man! I’ll pop to the shop and get some wine! I know a shop nearby! They’re very discrete!” he triumphantly bellowed.
The train stopped and we both got off
“Ten minutes. No later. And no kissing.” I warned.
The creep hurried off
stumbling as he went
I got in a taxi and went straight to my girlfriend’s
she had everything I wanted
that poor son of a bitch is probably still waiting under the bridge
getting older and older.
fighting against the drink to stay awake
the world was flying by outside
but I appeared to be going nowhere
trapped in the present
no company but for a flickering light
compared to some relationships it was heaven
then the creep walked in
he had the hair of a newborn
but the wrinkles and desperation of experience
he sat down opposite me
I made a point at looking at the empty seats around us
“Where you heading to, young man?” he asked
“There’s only one stop.” I fired back
“I meant after that.
“The bridge.”
“The bridge?”
“Yeah the bridge by the station. I live under it”
the creep looked concerned
I noticed dried spittle in the corner of his mouth
probably caused by medication
“On a night like this?! No, I insist you come back to mine. It’s real warm.” he offered.
I began to wonder if it was just dried spittle
“Do you like jazz?” he asked
I do like jazz as a matter of fact
“It’s not bad” I said vaguely
he began reeling off names of musicians I’d never heard of
“Never heard of them” I replied
“Well come back to mine and I’ll educate you” he suggested
I ignored him and his offer of tutoring
“I’ve got good wine. It’s come all the way from France” he explained.
I looked out the window
the train was passing a small town
everyone there was probably asleep
lucky bastards
I noticed the creep wasn’t wearing a coat
just a tatty, tanned shirt and some ill-fitting trousers
it was November
some time passed
“You ever been curious about men?” he finally asked
“Only when they’re staring at my girlfriend.” I answered
I noticed some fear in his eyes
he didn’t have many years left
but he wasn’t ready to go
not whilst there was so much to take.
“I bet you’ve got the perfect helmet.” he guessed
He was right
nice shape with a real smooth finish.
“Look, I’m tired, old man. But if you go two carriages that way, there’s a boy in there. Real curious. Has a saxophone with him too. Very jazzy.” I lied
the old man stood up and looked up the carriages
he stroked his chin
some of the dried spittle (or worse) flaked off
“But I didn’t see anyone. I looked. I looked in all the carriages…” he pondered
“He was asleep when I saw him. Slumped down. Easily missed” I replied
“Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute. Wait right here”
he eagerly shuffled out of the carriage
I got up and went two carriages down in the opposite direction
eventually the creep returned
he looked angry
“Why did you lie to me?! I thought we were friends!” he bellowed
“He’s gone? Are you sure? Maybe he got off at the last station?” I said
“There’s only one stop. You know that! You fucking know that!”
the poor fucker began to cry
He really wanted to devour me
or anyone, to be honest
he wanted to suck the very marrow from the bones of my soul
just like me and any girl I’ve ever met
we weren’t that different really
tears trickled down his face
they followed the crazy roadmap of broken capillaries covering his skin
each one told a story of how the creep had given up on shame a long time ago
he held up his shaking, pleading hands
“The cancer took away my erections! It doesn’t mean I don’t get turned on” he screamed
is this really all we have to look forward to?
Desperation?
Disease?
Impotence?
I let out a long deep sigh.
“You give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you under the bridge at the station.” I offered.
“Oh yes, young man! I’ll pop to the shop and get some wine! I know a shop nearby! They’re very discrete!” he triumphantly bellowed.
The train stopped and we both got off
“Ten minutes. No later. And no kissing.” I warned.
The creep hurried off
stumbling as he went
I got in a taxi and went straight to my girlfriend’s
she had everything I wanted
that poor son of a bitch is probably still waiting under the bridge
getting older and older.
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