PS25, Or Whatever by Ian Lewis Copestick

Brit Grit, Ian Copestick, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

Walking the suburban streets
I can’t help but notice how empty
they are. Of course, it’s winter, but
that never stopped us, when we were
kids. We’d be out playing football
whatever the weather. Now parents
have irrational fears of gangs of
roaming paedophiles, abducting children
off the streets, willy nilly, or that
every kid over the age of 10 is a knife
wielding drug dealer. I can’t help but
feel they are missing out on something.
Life, perhaps. Sure, playing games on computers
is fun, I used to enjoy it myself in my early
20’s. But how do kids now get their social skills ?
How do they learn how to talk to girls ?
You don’t get that by destroying zombies
on  PS25, or whatever number they’re
up to now. I remember a sci-fi story
I read when I was about 10, in it children
didn’t go to school, but were all taught
via the internet, and this story must have
been written in the ’70’s. It’s quite
accurate in it’s dystopian prophecy.
Not too dystopian, just enough to
get it right. Well, not far off, there are
still schools, but most people now
communicate by computer, that’s great.
But, what good is that if you want a game
of 20 a side football in a suburban street, on a
February night ?