You never know what you will do
when teenage motorbike thieves
swing a crowbar at you. I will step
into the pub, watch the owner climb
off the floor, hear the 2.50pm train pull
into the station, smell
the reduced strawberries from the green
grocers, feel the kerb become
my ankle, taste a community charge
the streets, feel the two wheels buckle
under the weight of desperate boys.

© Carl Burkitt 2023