In the morning I walk
Up one side of the street
In the evening I sometimes
Try the other, but
Sometimes not, habit grates.
Half 3 am is like the strip of
Grass that runs down the middle
Of my street, a place
For robbers to walk on
Avoiding dog-shit, just like
The day would, carrying
Bats, ready for the night.
His hood was down, his
Head was out, his walk
Was fast, his bat was
Long beneath his sleeve,
I didn’t see it or his accomplice.
I looked on, walking
Two were upon me
Bees out of air, with
Stings I didn’t believe in-
Would I get hurt if I
Wouldn’t find my purse?
‘Give us everything,’ they said
Like kids for sweets, ‘or whatever
You’ve got,’ I took them seriously,
Like a teacher playing along.
I threw some first class
Stamps in with the other goodies.
They didn’t think the stamps
Were kind or funny but bless
Him, he stuffed them back
In my little red bag, lips
Open, bemused.
They were blind to my lap-top
They ran off – like bats
Out of Hackney, I walked
On, thank god or the greatness
For twisting my fate just
Enough to wake me,
No pinch to my heart.
Next time I’ll take a taxi,
There’ll be no blood from
Me for bats dressed up in
Tracksuits.
Being Every Day 