waiting for girlfriend’s bus
I needed a piss, so
I went into the men’s, stood to a urinal, took it out and started
doing my business …
someone stands next to me.
our elbows touch.
there’s three other shanks and a cubicle,
but this guy has to piss next to me?
whatever. I finish pissing, zip up and turn –
he’s looking right at me.
up for it? he says.
up for what?
come on, he says. you’re Jim forty-five, aren’t you?
no, I tell him.
oh come on, don’t chicken out now. is it cos you don’t like what you see?
I looked at him: he was little and skinny. kinda feminine.
and I hadn’t done anal in ages …
show me your arse, I said.
he undid his belt, pulled his jeans and boxers down and bent over the urinal.
spread ‘em, I said.
nah, sorry, I said. too hairy.
you said you didn’t mind hair, he said. you fucking said!
look, I’m sorry, I said. but I’m not Jim forty-five.
fuck you aren’t! he turned around, his pants hanging around his knees.
coward! get off on humiliating me like this, do you? he said
as his stiffy waved around.
I went to the mirror and washed my hands.
I checked my reflection,
buffed my quiff up,
went back out