Men had lain, groaning in make-shift hospital beds,
Bandages were wrapped and rewrapped and
Lunch was served on paper plates.
I’d played cards with my dead friend for a good hour.
He was losing. He’d moaned that it was something to do with his inability to pick them up. Said I had the advantage.
Soon after, the director said cut.
We were released!
The make up girl wanted to remove my blood and bullet holes, but
I was parked on the other side of Leeds and didn’t have long left on my ticket, so decided to have a giggle…
I stumbled through the busy city centre, bouncing from pillow to post, as if badly injured.
My breathing rasped in my throat as I rushed, so I added a cough to the drama.
I could feel the stare of student and shopper alike.
A police car passed by without a thought to stop.
Apathy had its flag flying high.
Around a mile and a half passed by.
I was bruised and sore from all the bouncing that I’d added to the drama.
Only once did someone follow their heart:
‘Arrre yoo okaaay?’ A tiny Spanish voice asked.
Only once were compassionate hands lifted to my face.
I blessed her and continued on the final thirty yards.
Either Leeds is used to seeing dead men walking, I am a terrible actor or the people on the street that day were dead inside.
I hope it was the second option.