Seeing Stars Read Free

and illuminating without ever
    resorting to name-dropping or dressing-room gossip.
    Near the Belgian border a note of tiredness entered
    Dennis’s voice, so to soothe him to sleep I skipped from
    Classic Rock to Easy Listening. It wasn’t until we were
    approaching the outskirts of the city that he stirred and
    looked at his Rolex. “It will sure be a tight one,” he said.
    “Why don’t you get changed in the car and I’ll drop you
    off at the ground?” I suggested. “Good plan,” he said, and
    wriggled into the back. In the corner of my eye he was a
    contortion of red and white, like Santa Claus in a badger
    trap, though of course I afforded him complete privacy,
    because like most professionally trained drivers I use only
    the wing mirrors, never the rear view. Pretty swiftly he
    dropped into the seat beside me, being careful not to
    scratch the console with his studs. “Here’s the stadium,” I
    said, turning into a crowded boulevard awash with flags
    and scarves. Dennis jogged away towards a turnstile,
    through which the brilliance of the floodlights shone
    like the light from a distant galaxy.
    And it’s now that I have to confess that Mr. Bergkamp was
    only one of dozens of Dennises to have found their way
    into the passenger seat of my mid-range saloon. Dennis
    Healey, Dennis Hopper, Dennis Potter, Dennis Lillee, the
    underrated record producer Dennis Bovell, and many,
    many more. I once drove Dennis Thatcher from Leicester
    Forest East service station to Ludlow races and he wasn’t a
    moment’s bother, though I did have to ask him to refrain
    from smoking, and of course not to breathe one word about
    the woman who introduced rabies to South Yorkshire.
Upon Opening the Chest Freezer
    From the last snowfall of winter to settle on
    the hills Damien likes to roll up a ginormous
    snowball then store it in the chest freezer in
    the pantry for one of his little stunts. Come
    high summer, in that thin membrane of night
    which divides one long day from the next,
    he’ll drive out in the van and deposit his
    snowball at a bus stop or crossroads or at the
    door of a parish church. Then from a discreet
    distance, using the telescopic lens, he’ll snap
    away with the Nikon, documenting the
    awestruck citizenry who swarm around his
    miracle of meteorology, who look upon such
    mighty works bewildered and amazed.
    Damien, I’m through playing housewife to your
    “art” and this brief story-poem is to tell you
    I’m leaving. I’m gaffer-taping it to the inside
    of the freezer lid; if you’re reading it, you’re
    staring into the steaming abyss where nothing
    remains but a packet of boneless chicken thighs
    and a scattering of petis pois, as hard as bullets
    and bruised purple by frost. At first it was just
    a scoop here and a scraping there, slush puppies
    for next door’s kids, a lemon sorbet after the
    Sunday roast, an ice pack once in a while for my
    tired flesh, then margaritas for that gaggle of
    sycophants you rolled home with one night,
    until the day dawned when there wasn’t so
    much as a snowflake left. And I need for you
    now to lean into the void and feel for yourself
    the true scald of Antarctica’s breath.
Seeing Stars
    A young, sweet-looking couple came into my pharmacy.
    The woman said, “I’d like this hairbrush, please. Oh, and
    a packet of sugar-free chewing gum. Oh, and I’ll take one
    of these as well,” she added, pointing to a pregnancy-
    testing kit on the counter. I slipped it into a paper bag, and
    as I was handing back her change I winked at her and said,
    “Fingers crossed!” “What did you say?” asked the man.
    “I was just wishing you luck,” I said. “Why don’t you
    mind your own business, pal,” he hissed. “Or is it giving
    you a big hard-on, thinking about my girl dropping her
    knickers and pissing on one of those plastic sticks?” A boom-
    ing, cavernous emptiness expanded inside me—I felt like
    Gaping Ghyll on the one day of the year they open it
    up to