Cuts and Blows

Saturday, Frank is sitting
in the queue at Fan Barber’s
waiting for a trim.
There’s a match on and as the door
opens, the crowd’s roar floats
from St James’ Park. When the young
barber turns to see who’s next
a thin lad in a peaked cap
stands up alongside Frank.
They both move forward,
Frank stops and looks,
the lad glares back:
I was forst, man.
Frankie knows he wasn’t
but doesn’t argue.
The lad sits in the chair
removes his cap
for the electric shaver
to do its job. Frankie’s cross
but says nowt. When the lad
is done, he throws a word
at Frankie as he walks past.
Frank’s not sure, thinks it was Hom
but the barber is waiting
and the lad has gone.
Twenty minutes later
Frank steps out into the chill
of the afternoon, looks down
Westgate Hill, thinking about Derek
and the Youth Group, when he turns
the corner there are three lads
one with the peaked cap.
Frank has to pass them to get home,
he gets the old familiar racing pulse
but can’t turn back, they all move
as one towards him. Surrounding
Frank, they start to push
they have him in an arm lock
force him down a back lane.