Page 160 of The Black Flamingo

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“Who are you?”

I ask, taking one, two steps closer.

“Michael Brown,”

says The Black Flamingo, unmoved.

“Michael Angeli,”

I reply, spreading my wings.

“Mikey,”

says The Black Flamingo,

spreading his to match mine.

“Michalis,” I squawk.

“Mike,” he squawks back.

We peck at each other,

locking beaks once, twice.

The seagulls are laughing.

We back away slowly and fold

our wings.

I wake up.

Shit!

I’m meant to be on campus this morning

handing out flyers. It’s Drag Soc’s show tonight.

I leap up off the sofa, step over Lennie

and Sienna on the floor. Pat myself down:

Where’s my phone?

Step back over the sleeping couple

and search between the sofa cushions.

Found it!

I run out of the door, to the Tube,

to get to London Victoria station

and on a train back to Brighton.

KATY:Do you still need help this morning?

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