Grey cap,
grey jacket,
grey shorts,
satchel crisscrossed,
red tie
Right, I’m off, jauntily.
Oh no you don’t, he feels her
Reach
Or chased round the kitchen
Accused of eating his sister’s half packet
Fingertip smacks like little red stings
Not that he wasn’t always innocent
Soft thuds clang
Stone on metal
The babysitter’s car
The one he was meant to guard
Fair hair, seventies style
Never said a word.
