Retrospective
by Poppy

Song: Suzanne Vegas, "Gypsy"

Petrov sat in the small dusty café in St. Petersburg. The windows over looked the square, but the dark was fighting against the glass, and he could not see. He was hunched in a cornor, a bruise blosseming on his cheek, tender to his touch. In front of him sat a dirty bowl and a solitary cup of watery-coffee. He eyed it with slight distaste. It needed vodka. At this point in his life? Everything needed vodka. He shut his eyes, but it doesn’t help. In the back of his head he could stil hear the screams, the gun fire. His patch had been invaded by the polis. Rent boys were no longer welcome. ‘Take that faggot,’ then the blistering cold of the pavement.

Then… He finally gazed directly at the man across from him. His ‘savior’. Picked him up up, brought him here. Got him a bowl of stew, which was eaten quickly, gravy dripping down his chin. Then the coffee which even petrov was eyeing warily.

“What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t… It’s Eloi, Eloi Ndweliefwa,”

You come from far away,
with pictures in your eyes,
Of Coffeeshops and morning streets,
In the blue and silent sunrise

Coffee left to congeal on the table, Eloi tok his hand, and Petrov let him. He had no resistance left, a tleast the touch was gentle. Been a long time since a touch had not been aimed to hurt, or to leech gratification. Eloi led him across the square, down a rancid alley and through a half rotten door into a building. The dust choked Petrov as his eyes got used to the gloom. In the back, from where a street lamp shone through a boarded window, he could see an old stage. It was delapidated and sad, surrounded by moldy chairs and faded scenery. Yet, there was something solid about it. Something real. He fancied he could see the ghosts of past performers weaving in and out of the neon strips. Ghosts… He suddenly thought of the others. If they had made it, or were they freezing to death on the pavement, bathed by red light from an advertisement. He suddenly felt cold, light headed. The need for vodka returned, and it revulsed him. He sunk downwards and landed in a pile of musty velvet curtains. Moths flikered upwards, and dust covered his torn shirt. He coughed, and wrapped his arms around himself. He should get up… TB was the last thing he could afford, and the dust was almost burning him. He sensed Eloi above him and he opened his eyes, gazing at the calm african.

“You’re like me…” he managed finally. “You’re different,”
Behind his eyes he could feel the voice whisper far louder, far more desperate. He began to cry.

But night is the cathedral
Where we recognised the sign
We strangers know each other now,
As part of a the whole design

He could feel arms around him, but he fought the initial reaction to run. He ignored the warning signals and bent back. Why bother to fight any longer? His lips were chapped from blow jobs in thesnow, his penis bruised from constant groping. If he must die, let it be by his own kind, in the warmth and comfort. Let it be in the first gentle embrace in his memory.

Oh hold me like a baby,
That will not fall asleep,
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you though the heat

He must have fallen asleep, for he woke to see the dust particls dancing through the croacks of cold light. His face throbbed and his mouth tasted of dehydration and shit. He groaned and shifted… and noticed Eloi’s absence. He sat up, suddenly frightened. Yesterday he had been stupid, lulled by a concussion and false safety. He looked around, half desperate, feeling like a caged animal. Must find a way out, must… then opposite him he noticed eyes. Sitting, watching him, had he sat like that all night? He grinned, half embarrsed. He received a smile in return, genuine and kind.

You have hands of raining water,
And that earring in your ear,
The wisdom on your face denies,
The number of your years

He moved towards eloi, who met him in the middle, half off the curtains, half on the wooden floor. Arms strong yet gentle, and oh so warm. He could perhaps get used to this…

Oh hold me like a baby,
That will not fall asleep,
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you though the heat