bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Monday 5th November 2007.

Remember...Remember...the fifth of we sang as kids around the playground waiting for darkness when...Rip-wraps...Penny bangers...Cannons...would fill the night air,the thick stench mixed with wet leaves had a smell,that came once a year poured over clothes found gaps touched skin,creep, crawl,witches tongues barbed cackled in your ear bony scrappy fingers played havoc with your belly button,you laughed, screamed,the rain it always rains on bonfire night in the barnacled city of Manchester,made the bonfire hiss,spit flames into the night air.Your teeth,if you managed to stick a grubby hand in a bowl full of home made treacle toffee,made by the old lady two doors down who's breasts you began to notice now sagged three doors down,always ruffled your hair,clutched you to her bust,the addictive smell of vicks-vapour rub pushed up beyond her coat lapels this time of year, cleaned out yer brain enough to duck dive,in the spirit of freedom from the bear hug she always gave.." Daft old bat " the young inner voice carried across the night air,crisp clean as youth.
You clutched tin foil wrapped spuds heaped on butter,the skin so burnt,eating coal sprung to mind but did you care

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