Here comes that man again

I saw my Backwards Man again yesterday.  I was walking home down the hill as he was walking up, so his back approached me; much less socially awkward than last time when I approached his front.  (In that situation should one smile? pass the time of day? ask if he would consider becoming my muse?)  Anyway, yesterday he seemed intent on his note-taking and was looking sideways at the traffic rather than where he was going, so I merged silently into the privet to let him pass.

I could do with a muse right now, especially one who is handy with his notebook.  I have two ideas I’m not sure what to do with and I’m running out of time to decide.  Meh meh meh.  What would Backwards Man do?

Some uke on guitar action for a Saturday night:

daor eht fo dne eht ta nam eht

Walking to work today up a long hill beside dual carriageways; in the distance a man walks backwards.

I was late, he was slow; I gained on him.

He had handsome almond eyes – hollow as a cyborg’s – that shifted restlessly around, and when his head turned to check his trajectory, I noticed grey in the dark curls falling from where they were gathered by a scarlet Royal Mail rubber band.

He was taking notes, scribbling feverishly in a reporter’s notepad.  It made sense now.

‘Hurry up’ I said as I passed.

He smiled.

‘Cut off is today’, I whispered to his back.

 

My second assignment is submitted and I am SO GLAD.