At the corner shop a man opens a magazine. All the inserts fall to the floor. He looks at me. He rolls his eyes. I roll mine too. We tut. We sigh. We part. We meet again at the counter. We roll our eyes, tut, sigh, and chuckle. The eye roll-tut-sigh-chuckle. It's how we men talk.
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- Kidcobbler
- Spent nine months dreaming on my back. Opened up new horizons, if only horizontal. Woke up disabled, with a Blue Badge and bed hair. Walk with a limp and a stick. Cue the double entendré and the stick. Saving money on shoes. Spending it on thoughts. Overdrawn at the creative bank. Loan facility disabled. The irony! Stronger through weakness. Weaker through slogans. New journeys to be taken. Pop along. I'm off my back. I'm back.
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