Eddie Peake’s Press Release
Inside the house the floorboards are bare. Must not get splinters. Splinters hurt especially with cold feet. Me in the bath you sit on a chair and play “Johnny’s So Long at the Fair”. I sing the chorus with you. In the garden there are piles of hardboard sloping vertically against the back wall. We’d climb to the top our feet sticking to the shiny side of the hardboard. At the top we’d sit and chat about Sophie’s dad having dope and how the police took him away. Then we’d slide down whizzing fast, clothes filthy from the dust. All the children from the street wanted to come too.
I walk over the bridge. Traffic queues, I’m going to your house. I’ll knock on the door and see if you’re in, maybe your mum will answer. That river carves the north and the south. It ebbs and flows in my veins. Did you cry out in the dark? On the silty banks where the cormorant prays to the rising sun, stretching its wings, dawn burns the sky and flame clouds finger through the city. I am city meat. I am mahogany cabinets in back yards. The river bulges over the greasy shingle and boats carry cargoes and tourists or bodies to the morgue.
I remember being dressed for Louis’ birthday. Fancy dress. I am the joker and you are a WW2 pilot. My sisters dress me. I wore striped trousers. My face painted white and a red mouth. My hair stained green with food colouring. We were ready and into the back of the car all rustled together. Leaving the house was like cutting through skin, all the ties suddenly fraying to nothing. Where were you? Laying the table with fresias down the middle? I miss you and see you everywhere.