Self-Preservation by Ian Lewis Copestick

Brit Grit, Ian Copestick, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

PhotoFunia-1590567085 Self-Preservation

It’s a Friday night, in mid July,
and the young lads are out in gangs
of ten or more. When they swagger
past, I just look at the ground. Or is it
safer to look them in the eyes, to show
that you’re not scared ? I don’t know.
I play it as it comes, as fifteen more
go by. I hear an “Oi!” I keep on walking
at a steady pace. I’m not going to run
until I really have to, and I don’t want
to draw attention to myself. It’s happened
before, and I know from experience I
can take out one or two, but when they
travel in such big mobs, there’s not much
that you can do. So, on I walk, keeping
my head down, or trying to stare them
out. When you are my age, and on
your own, your self preservation skills
take control.