been dipping into the beat writers again of late.
tearful pitter patter of rain on the cracked concrete of cardiff midnight, parts of the street flooded and often water hidden under trickster paving stones that rock and roll water up the back of your jeans and all over your canvas shoes. they lap the water up like hungry dogs, as it soaks into your socks and chills your feet.
a lamp post orange taints the scene, giving eerie shadows to what i would see as normal streets in beautiful daylight, or as the case often is in this wet town, the light of the sun through the grey grey clouds. and i walk on and on, these pavements, roads taking me home. cars pass by, mostly taxis, taking drunk kids into town so they can dance and dance and do the silly things their parents told them never to do. but what can i say when i do the same thing on many nights of the week.
i’m caught in my own thoughts, and i wander along in time to the tapping of the rain. on my right leaving their house is a group of arab fellas, wondering which off license is still open. they want alcohol, they want to party. through the open door way i see a shisha pipe and i think back to being on the far side of the world, smoking one on a tropical beach, while in the distance hysterical stormclouds spark and boom on the horizon. i give them directions to a co-op that i think might be open at this point.
further along out pops an irish guy. he’s ginger, with the most ridiculous rollie in his mouth. looks kind of like popeye, talking and holding the beast of tobacco in the corner of this mouth. he wants to know where he can get weed around here. either trying to impress someone or not from town. i haven’t got a clue, so i tell him as such. he looks disappointed, and the rollie points at an angle towards the ground.
i walk away and the rain picks up. i could run but i decide to relish the cool splashing on my face. in the distance i see the rain tear at the colours of the street, creating little blurred dots as paint starts to run in the night sky and lamp post light, water droplets dragging the down the canvas of the world. it all becomes blotchy, running away and leaving a blurred mess of a canvas, but i keep on walking.