Written and performed by Derrick Newson
Do I look like a drug dealer?
Well, I didn't think so either.
But there I was in this little town of Karlshamn in Southern Sweden.
I'd just enjoyed a meal of flounder in a
cream and cheese sauce
Sitting on a bed of mashed potato
 |
| Flounder on a bed of mashed potato. Pic: Derrick Newson |
Washed down by a bottle of Moselle
Reisling.
Afterwards I was walking back to the
hotel
Through the deserted main square
When I noticed this boy
No more than sixteen
Tall, thin, fair with the obligatory sad
blue eyes.
He was wearing a woolly pale grey track
suit,
Soft to the touch I am sure
I noticed him but I just walked on
Down the cobbled street towards the hotel.
A minute or two later
There he was tapping my shoulder
Asking whether I had something to sniff.
Quick as a flash I thought of my cock
Very sniffable I always think.
But I politely said no.
Disappointed he disappeared around the
corner.
He seemed a decent soul,
Which is more than can be said of me.
And there I was left alone
With nothing to offer but an old body
And the experience of being mistaken as a
dealer in drugs.
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