ice scream in suburbia -by slightly ajar

Sunday Afternoon in Suburbia or Ice Scream

Ice cream van music (first)
A regular military drum beat spoken in a low voice.

It was Sunday afternoon in Suburbia when that man mowing the lawn watched you take all your clothes off and throw them at me.

You said I’d taken everything - and I may as well have those too.

I said (ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh).

sweety music with a chorus maybe

It was a bright day and I walked back to our dull flat but you had gotten there first and smashed our TV into a million tiny pieces.

I looked at them and they felt like my heart - and you said fuck off.

I said (ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh).

sweety music with a chorus maybe

I thought back to the even dingier bedsit before the dull flat and your two pints of lager and two large vodkas at 6.30pm every Weekend night.

You, always unconscious on the bed - me always packing my blackmailing suitcase.

(ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh).

sweety music with a chorus maybe

I thought back to the sunshine and the walk through the woods the night we had fun with the fruit and veg in that caravan bed.

You said you loved me but you hated sex - except once when you did it with Angelica.

(ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh).

sweety music with a chorus maybe

I remembered the time we took your grandmothers heart pills, I rang my bar job, I couldn’t move, we lay dead on the bed.

You, a knife under your pillow for your Dad - me kissing your younger brother.

(ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

sweety music with a chorus maybe

I recalled when you saved my life with your twitching head needing to leave our caravan and return to the dingy bedsit.

In the morning our double bed – divided in two by a large oak tree.

I said Goodbye.