Star Wars premiered as they cut the exiguous flap of my umbilical. ‘The King is Dead' ran The Herald and the midwife handed over the genesis of my unfledged, unwhimpering body.
Shaqti opens the gold reckoning case of his mouth to knock back coffee. ‘My teeth are only worth a concubine's room' he says. Dented blue-grey eyes laughing over Ray Bans. London '77. Zurich '79.