Kennishead Flats, Early 70’s (Barry Blue might have been at number 1)
The seabirds are not afraid of heights. They soar high among Glasgow tower blocks shitting freely on unlucky punters below. On days drab and sploshy, the grey seeps into souls. Young lads shiver but refuse the coat for fear of losing face. The wind whistles its random tune around concrete and rust and spoils games of football with its artless gusts.
“On a clear day, you can see the next block”
Bunnets fly off elderly heads and land in puddles stagnant with fag-ends and drunk men’s piss.
This is the scheme of things.
“Tam McGurk found a deid grass-snake up the fire escape”
“Must have been a suicide”
The fire escape: a pleasure-dome in the sky. Sexual initiates in clumsy congress amid the smell of stale piss and fag-smoke.
“Ma first time? I dinnae mind who he wis, but Ah remember the smell”
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