THE BOYFRIEND SAID

‘You okay from here?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
Before we left, when I was deciding whether to walk back with her or try get the bus she said, ‘Don’t worry I’ll protect you.’
High Street, St. Marks Road, Stapleton Road, Kensington Road, Seymour Road, subway roundabout subway out and saw police with two young men standing by a car...
‘I hate the police,’ she said.
‘Haven’t we been there already tonight?’ I said.
‘I know, I know.’
We were talking about consuming and I didn’t want to be distracted...
St. Agnes Park...‘This is like being royalty,’ she said, ‘through these trees...’ St. Nicholas Street, Grovesner...
Eleven at night. We said goodbye and I waved on my way to the top left corner of Denbigh Street and she waved from halfway back.
Up onto City Road and I wished she was still walking with me as further along the road towards town I could see a group of people two of whom were stood close to each other and shouting.
I thought of going Ashley Road but there’d been a stabbing there recently, and it’s darker than City.
By the time I reached near enough to see it was a white woman and a black man doing the shouting, she pushed him, moved away arm raised finger jabbing, over to the pavement on my side, two men with her one of them looks at me.
‘You’re a fucking throwback, you are, I wouldn’t have your prick inside me if it was the only one, it’s a disease ridden prick, you fucking throwback.’
...I crossed the road, walked between them, where they shouted....they must’ve been a couple...
‘Fuck off bitch. You’d probably inject yourself again if you were pregnant, you fucking junkie.’
...from behind me...split up now, recently by the sound...
‘Oh fuck off, you fucking throwback...it’s disease ridden it is, you’re prick.’
‘Fuck off. Get over it...’
In the off license on Stokes Croft the young and beautiful couple in front of bought six bottles of dry cider, 7.5%, had a name they used to order.
‘Twenty-one pounds,’ said the man serving.
‘You got a pound?’ the boyfriend said.