Photographic Memory

Driving a small car too fast
Through streets I don’t recognise
I seem to know where I’m going
Pedestrians leap out of the way
I ignore traffic lights, zebras, other cars
Park in a quiet side street
Outside a block of flats

I’m upstairs, in a large room
There’s a big tv, double bed
Wardrobes, dressing table, shower cubicle
The view is panoramic
Partly obscured by a block of flats
In darkness I see figures
Watching tv, talking, fixing dinner
Maybe they can see me


I sit by the window
In a white linen dress
Bloodstained and torn
I slip off the dress
Start brushing my hair
Painting my nails, applying make up
I’m wearing black underwear
A tiny thong and a bra

Glancing out of the window
I see a figure, staring
It seems to be looking straight at me
From the end flat, third from the top
Turning my back to the window
I slowly remove the bra
Then I turn out the lights
Slip inside the bed covers

Now I’m knocking on a door
A blonde woman opens it
She reminds me of Helen
We shake hands
She starts showing me the flat
The previous owner has left in a hurry
I glance out of the window
Looking into the flat opposite, my own

I discover a locked door
Ask the woman what’s inside
She says it’s a dark room
The occupant was a photographer
I ask to look inside
She finds the key
Inside are two entire walls
Covered in black and white images

On one wall are photos of a girl
Combing her hair by a window
Dressed in black underwear
Then partially naked
On the other wall, blown up
Are photos of an auto accident
I recognise the photos
And nausea starts to overcome me