
6 July 1972. Power cuts, miners’ strikes. The dead go unburied. The world’s dark and bright. I walk the secure streets of suburbia. By day I wear a brown school blazer. At night I stand in front of my mirror. Downstairs, he points through the screen and picks on me. A glittering panther, pawing at a guitar, scary and shock-headed.
12 May 1974. The picture on my wall, pulled from a girls’ magazine, still ragged from the staples. He pirouettes in pale blue, eyes shaded the same colour. His tie is silver foil and spun gold. He’s an analogue angel in platform boots. In my dreams he mimes the piano with his fingers, laughs, and walks away.