match day

The crowds are out

it’s match day

and Bramall Lane draws

a constant current

of stripeshirted men

boys

scarved women

girls

A’Salt and Battered

is queued up

down the road

never seen it so busy

selling chips by the galleon

I’m against the flow

and he spots me yards off

as he climbs the street

past the Cremorne

till we coincide

outside cake‘r’us

he raises his left hand

in a high five salute

a black guy

about forty five

says

how’re ya doin?

we’re passing nearside and

instinctively

I raise my left hand

to give him back the greeting

it can’t hurt

he’s perhaps a little

squiffy

but

ah, he’s got me

holds onto my hand

now engulfed

within his

cold dry palm

a bricklayer’s hand perhaps

smooth calloused skin

It’s been a long time, he says

has it? I smile

you don’t remember?

oh, say I, no

do I know you?

you don’t remember?

I don’t think so

where do I know you from?

you tell me, he says

I can’t think… down south somewhere?

that’s it

London?

that’s right

funny, I say

I don’t remember at all

oh yes, says he

oh yes

he’s got me eye to eye

you know what I’m doing now?

he licks his tongue

around the gaps in his front teeth

soft and wet

er, an electrician? 

I hazard

I'm enjoying the cheek of it

no, I’m on the streets

I’m sleeping on the streets

oh no, really, where?

car park at end o’t Moor

oh

y’know what? he says

what?

I’ve been out since nine o’clock

nine o’clock this morning

just trying to get three pounds

for something to eat

just three pounds

just for something to eat

he looks at me full frontal

I hate to ask, he says

oh, right, I say

let me… er…

he let’s go of my hand

so I’m fiddling in my pockets now

just looking for something

my change purse

something

I find a penny

I’d picked

off the pavement earlier

but a penny’s not enough

he’s got me on his hook now

there’s no wriggling free

can’t find it anywhere though

so the bag comes off my back

and I’m rooting around

where’s my bloody change purse

God, I hate this

nope not in my bag

test my pockets again

and there it is

I hate to ask, he says

I tip the contents into my hand

two two pence pieces

a waitrose trolley token

and a two pound coin

I give it a last wistful look

as I drop it in his outstretched hand

I hate to ask, he says

well that’ll get you started

I say

that’ll get you started

he looks me in the eye again

takes my hand in his

in a formal handshake

I’m very grateful

he says

very grateful

No worries

no worries

look after yourself

Bless you sir

bless you

and I walk off 

smiling

and feeling slightly

mugged