You could have a big dipper   

The Time We Ate Fish and Chips on the Front Porch by Rhiannon Wilson



We hardly ever got a take-away. Special occasions, or maybe when we had just got back from a long journey, five hours or more in the car together, both of us too tired to cook, we got it as an ending, I think. Back home now but the trip’s not over yet, not until you have lifted the last chip to your mouth, scrunched the paper up and wiped the grease off your hands. Did you know? When you suggested it, leaning in the doorway in your big coat, did you know it was an ending? The journey’s nearly over. Let’s get fish and chips and sit together on the porch before we have to say goodbye.



Rhiannon Willson is a queer poet who spends her spare time playing scrabble with old ladies and trying to learn how to rollerskate. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in HAD and Superfroot Mag, among others. She can be found on twitter @rhiannonwillson or through her website, rhiannonwillson.co.uk

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