Tag Archives: ghosts

Always Down The Front

Photo credit: Katrin Bretscher (www.katrinbretscher.com)

Photo credit: Katrin Bretscher (www.katrinbretscher.com)

There’s always one isn’t there,

Slopping beer all over his shoes?

He’s jostling for position

Hand secure upon the barrier

But his shoulders aren’t quite through

Cos there’s a fangirl, already half cut,

Hogging space for two

Arms are sleeves of coloured ink

Hair is blonde and striped in pink

Boobs are large and cupped in lace…

He might try conversation

“I love your tats; the skull, the eagle

the waves that wash across that fish…”

She flicks her hair across his face

Flashing eyes like glazy treacle

Swigs her pint, drenches his shoe

Budges up to let him through

Exhaling words of amber hops

In wispy tones at his lobe,

She tells of watching every show,

“I’m always down the front.

Spare a thought,” she suggests ,

Eyes transfixed on amps and rigs,

“for the guys who risk their lives.

I’ve been up there and I have seen

The underpaid who never rest.

Coiled in cables, burned, dog tired

Blinded, deafened and hot wired

Lost in circuits, lights, transformers,

Steering sound on fast food diets

Crushed by structures,

Fixing risers

Skilled in light and bespoke pyro.

I climbed up high and saw them all

The riggers, techies, leccies and crew

wrapped in miles of trusty gaffer

The steadfast, deadpan

poor security man.”

She sighs in wispy amber tones

Eyes all flashing glazy

Treacle pools reflecting

So impressed, he concurs

Then thinking back to boobs in lace

He might try conversation…

But amps reverb and drown the chance

Arm hairs rigid and entranced

There’s no time now to be so blunt

As dry ice shrouds his fangirl…

His feet are feeling light as air

It’s just as though she wasn’t there

His shoe is dry, but how? And why?

As darkness cloaks his fangirl…

Exhaling words of amber hops

In wispy tones at his lobe

“You’ll catch me watching every show

I’m always down the front.”