MM # 19– The Theft

The Theft 

The Young

happy on skateboards

new fringe of moustache

roll past frogs and earnest fences

stilled in the dusk

away from home with beds

old toys

rude posters

desks

with chilling towers of options

chilling absence of means.

Sun slides down with whispers

and squirrels are quiet in their leafy nests

bees snug

sticky

yellow black and fat

neighbours are gone

(respite from renos, respite from home).

Here in the back shadows are long

light a match

remember the code

drop the old bikes.

The Young

sneaker-stealthy as city cats.

There is a face on the other side of the fence

a face breathing through a screen

breathing in night shadows:

What triggered the light?

black cat on the stoop

raccoon or summer drunk skunk?

No, just two burgling boys

spiriting away new bikes

(packs of old tools, new toys)

their chilling tower of options

thrown down (old bikes)

discarded in the ally

beside frogs and earnest fences

on the ground.

They flee.

The heavily armoured officer

arrives with a prayer and a pistol

a note pad and pencil

time, date, light, age

the generations of tools spirited away

back packs hidden under youthful beds

impossible to trace

but maybe, just maybe

the bikes

(lost dreams)

chilling presence

perhaps to be caught with stolen means.

The armoured officer lifts her eyes:

The Chase

Will this be the code to the rest of their lives?

By Lutia Lausane, copyright Just Peachy Productions, 8 September 2017

 

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