Phonecalls have gone unanswered
But I want to get out
So I’m off like a rolling stone
To search out who I’m looking for
It’s hot and still.
The sky is overcast, but it must be near sunset, or just past.
Pink highlights in the clouds.
There’s a haze in the air
Making distant figures indistinct,
I reach the pub where I supposed we’d meet
As I enter, the last few working men stamp out
leaving it empty.
Retreating, I investigate a few more streets,
A few more bright rooms,
Before giving it up.
Even the bike racks are empty,
Like everyone was leaving town forever.
A woman stands nonplussed
A bag in each hand
In the open doorway of a closed (closed?)
Shop, lights off, an alarm beeping.
I pass a man slowly walking backwards
Dragging a large suitcase.
I catch a glimpse of his face as I go by
Beneath sunglasses he looks feral.
Behind the clouds, the sun must be gone from the sky;
The streetlights are taking over.
Another street: An open door into a ground floor office, empty
Outside on the street, an empty car, doors and boot all open.
I can’t shake it off.
Everything seems weird,
Perhaps it is.
A man walks past talking in a low voice
Bright green LEDs flicker in the back of the mobile
At his ear.
It makes his head look alien.
Back home, one last phonecall,
To salvage the evening.
“Where the hell are you?
Things are getting strange,”
I plan to say
“The town's full of open doors
And people walking backwards.
It’s like some sort of mixed up tarot show out there.”
But there is no reply.
A2 Results: Art - C; English - C; Physics - D. It’s not great, but it’s good enough.
Update: 20/08/2005 - I saw the backwards-walking-man again today, about an hour earlier in the day than the first time, across the road from the original place, heading in the same direction. Still wearing sunglasses. Still dragging the suitcase. Still walking backwards.