BEAUTIFUL

Target side of town end of Stokes Croft saw a man being photographed and wondered why.
I recognised him as the man I’d seen in the lift some time ago with the woman I call The Queen Of The Flats when he’d made it clear, by saying her dog wouldn’t let anyone other than her stroke it except for him, that he was her man.
Today as I passed I looked and he pointed and said, ‘hey, you, hey. You’re really beautiful you are.’
I laughed moving towards him and said, ‘thanks.’
‘No, I really mean it.’
‘Yeh, I believe you...’ - could see he was drunk - ‘...and I was wondering why you were being photographed and thought I’d say it’s great seeing someone on Stokes Croft wearing a three-piece suit and tie.’
He seemed to deflect the comment, maybe difficult to hear, drunk, swaying, using a stick to help balance, said, ‘you’re so tall.’
‘Yes, thanks, I really enjoy it.’
His eyes with an alcoholic glaze struggling to keep focus, his attention getting lost I gave him a thumbs up and said, turning away, ‘bye now.’
‘Bye, handsome.’