Bear Pit Cock Pit Skip Double Dutch

 

The corner of Cranstoun and Robert Street

impromptu arena, scenes ranging from

the stupendous to the sadistic.

Peak focal point for gum-eyed neighbours

bludgeoned by boredom, beyond care.

Serial blue light flashing

serenading car seat sandwich teas

witness to fleeing third parties,

escaping hot trouble, watching

hand in hand with their friend,

the net curtain, twitching jig.

Below bust-up twisted bed frame,

(slightly superior to the cheap ply wardrobe

so far as hiding places go)

in practiced silence we wait.

How many thousands of times

have you heard this before

against those same brick walls,

behind the splintered red door?