Brixton

Brixton is never far
The tired metaphor, the seeking of buzz,
Jostling, jostling
Sweat, onions and smoking kebabs, a glance of suspicion
Pram-faced mothers and council facelifts,
Patterned bedspreads hung out to dry.
An open window, a snatch of laughter
Arcing, then..... gone..
Matriarchs calling in high singsong
A flash of bling, white horses drawing a hearse
The angst of migration, an expectation of gunfire...

Basketballers on the high road,
Playing passing buses
Exhilaration ends paranoia.

Race as metaphor
Scarman as interpretation,
Sex as equality.
Brixton is the city.