The Other Side

229 words, that's all.

I’m not allowed on the other side so I busk here. I try to stop you by singing All by Myself, but you walk on by. I sing Walk on By, and guess what, you walk on by.

In my upturned cap, there’s a handful of coppers, a pound coin and a screwed up chocolate wrapper. You’re probably thinking ‘he’s on drugs or booze and if I give him money he’ll spend it on his habit’. I can’t blame you. I look a little scruffy, very scruffy. Dirty even. 

You strut past like a peacock pretending not to notice me. I watch you and your mates leaving McDonald’s. I doubt you’re even hungry. But me? I’m bloody starving and I’ll probably have to go another day without proper food.

See him, on the other side? Him with trendy clothes and a smug look on his face? We were mates years ago. Last time I saw him I  was Jack the Lad. I remember giving him a bed for the night and a square meal or two when he was going through hard times. Now he pretends not to know me. But I don’t care.

No, actually, I do.

Smile. Sing your heart out. Give ‘em a dose of soul music. Show ‘em Elvis lives. Soon I’ll cross to the other side.  I will.

Please God, please say I will.

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