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?