hat
on that said
'brugal'
over a small
french
flag.
he
was playing some
cello
music, I asked
him
what it was
and
he said to picture
'a
marauder
walking
through the
city
in a trench coat,
rain
lashing down,
venom
from the sky'
I
thought of the
bladerunner
rain,
the
tears of crying children.
'so
you're listening to this
classical
stuff now?'
'yeah
man, it's good'
and
now he was on the
bed
in his boxers
in
that trilby straw hat
with
French connections
listening
to this cello music.
again
I asked him
what
it was.
'penguin
cafe mate'
he
went over to the window
and
stared at a couple of
melting
penguins,
he
was rare in
his
flight towards inescapable
ambition,
he had little fear
and
more to give than
just
words. but he was
also
a real odd cat,
off
kilter, not all there.
Aqeel Parvez writes and makes art. He lives in Leeds, UK. He is
the author of the chapbook The Streetlights Are Beckoning Nirvana (Analog
Submission Press). His work has been published by Horror Sleaze Trash, Back
Patio Press, Sunday Night Bombers, Expat Press, 16 Pages Press & Sludge
Lit. Find him on instagram @ap.writer & twitter
@aqeelparvez
