Lost Weak End

in transit my city has changed since I left it. In four days and three nights I've had ten hours sleep. The buildings have grown without me, aged and decayed, deserted by the parasitic tourists now off to scavage on safer continents. My time consists of the fractions i choose to open my eyelids for.

in paris for seven euros i walk around a matisse exhibition in seven minutes. i see everything twice before calling it quits. at a table in a park i hide from spattering raindrops and order a bottle of perrier water. it arrives with rust coating the lip. three sparrows sit on chairs, a pidgeon is at my toes. I shut my eyes.

in frith street in a karaoke bar i do a thirty minute cabaret for thirteen gorgeous women on a hen night. a poor show from i, i reach fifty percent of my game, the shakes and sleeplessness catching up and overtaking me. miraculously i remedy and reclaim the evening with an inspired duet of 'no woman no cry'. sometimes things just work out. I shut my eyes.

in balham i sit cross legged on a wooden floor drinking badly mixed orange and cranberry and watch friends pole dance. a woman possibly named chiquito reduces my career to dust then breathes life into the ashes. i thank her sincerely, she sways drunkenly. dave is an underwriter and lucy works for ibm. i sleight my hands and land a booking for may 2006. I shut my eyes.

in bethnal green an inconceivably small dog burns his tongue on the barbeque in pursuit of the trout smoking away on top. two yelps later he is navigating stairs twice his height, each step lined by lit candles, a flaming staircase of terror. uninformed in jeans and stripes, i clash badly with the meticulously observed 1940's theme, i'm offered caviar, raspberries and oysters. i borrow a trilby and unsheath my 52 friends; i blend right in. forty minutes later lisa shares a laugh with me, james wears a duck tie pin, rosa is an actress, jill has secreted a card in her blouse and i drink perrier water. I shut my eyes.