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  • Writer's pictureGreg Spencer

10:52

10:52am

Slumped in a corner 

Front door kicked in with no warning

Who said urban living was boring

Mum’ll sort it in the morning

They wouldn’t tell me why I got pulled

In my pj’s, slippers and no socks

Rumours swirling a kid on the block got shanked

Phil Schofield’s voice ringing out as I’m pushed out the door-shaped hole.

“Fuck off 5-0” screams a neighbour

I smile wryly, not wanting any favours

Handcuffs click like knuckles cracking

Will be telling me solicitor later

Gagging for a cigarette

I ask the cop if he’d allow it

Laughs in my face, kisses his teeth

Dignity vanishing faster than they smashed my door

A small child stares out his window at me

Fear and pain in his eyes, maybe the future

I glance over then look down at the streets

Is this my fate? Weekly visit to the pigpen?

Not sure this is the life for me

I contemplate as I’m lead down the steps

Three kids, another on the way

Adoring girlfriend predictably distressed

“Fuck this life”, the motto on my chest

Didn’t even get chance to get dressed

How can I chat up that fit desk sergeant

if I don’t look my best?

Civil rights, racial tension

Tell that shit to someone who listens

The man squeezing my arm is deaf

There’s no such thing as contrition

Wish I could’ve been a doctor

But the suit didn’t fit

9-5 are alien numbers to me

So on my sofa I sit

Fastforward to the next day

Told them I didn’t do that kid in

Released without charge

Looks like they found another black face to fit the bill

Sat watching the news on a Thursday noon

Turns out the kid who died was someone I knew

Now I’m at his funeral but years have passed

That kid staring out his window couldn’t last

Turns out he grew up to be just like me

Career criminal, influenced by what we see

Now I’m old and he’s in a box

Another forgotten boy from the block. 

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