The prompt for this one was ‘Why?‘
We’re buzzing in the autumn air. Not many people out.
Oldies have gone home to bed but clubbers still about.
Why hang around? Let’s go uptown and make our mark tonight.
Hoods up. We’ll stalk the paths we know and have ourselves some fun.
We’ll find quiet spots to take some photos where the tourists run.
You know what time it is? It’s playtime under the streetlights.
Those foreigners don’t talk like us; it’s funny how they sound.
Let’s liven up their evening while they’re visiting our town.
Not tacky mugs and t-shirts, body souvenirs instead.
Pavements throb from basement clubs. We’re moving with the sound.
See the bundle in that doorway? Let’s kick it around.
Then, whooping, dance away again to music in our heads.
See that bench, with those two holding hands?
Smile for the camera boys, while my fist lands.
Kick his head, girl. Aim for goal. And then
Smash ’em, bash ’em. We can post online.
Happy, slappy, dancing on his spine.
On playback we’ll enjoy it all again.
On the ground life ebbing, slips away.
Shouts fade, to seek new unsuspecting prey
Life seeping, weeping blood.
Life valued, honoured, loved.
About a murder committed by London teenagers who were bored.