Showing posts from November, 2012


SUNDOWN Her name was May, but she called herself   June. She was the kind of woman who dated buskers and tourists and giants.   The daily slog to the hospital was wreaking miracles on her bathroom scales.   One day she had arrived in the orange side car of a Harley Davison   to much amusement while she tried to fluff up her helmet hair.   August was a scorcher and the car park was as full as an egg.     She passed the open ambulance with only a cursory   glance and spotted the usual suspects in the covered   porch. The deaf man slumped sideways in the wheelchair had prevailed on yet another unwitting stranger   to wheel him up for a   fag.    The people in pyjamas with the bags of blood and liquids still attached-   some with nasal tubes and oxygen   - sat companionably smoking   on the window ledges swapping horror stories about their injuries and operations.     June eased herself through them, smiling and enquiring and sanitized her hands. In the foyer the procession of anxious fac