Posted in POETRY

Juvenile Delinquent

We whaur raking for treasure this efternuin –

doun the back of the bing,

The bit where ma Ma kin see us,

ower the kitchen sink.

When – buried doun below

some foosty plastic bags-

fou of someone else’s sexy Tennent’s Extra cans,

We fund four wheels of a Silvercross pram.

 

So. We brought them hame and dunked them

in that puddle by the kerb,

the drain gunk cleaned the rust up,

they whaur looking quite superb. Then Willie,

well– Willie wis having a muck aroond –

spinning the wheels, ripping them

roond and roond and roond,

until the cauld muck spat intae the plumes of cloud

that our laughing  made.

 

Oh and then!  Willie borrowed a fence panel

frae oot the back eh Mr Bain’s while I was shottie.

But it was Ian who made the boggie!

 

And it was the best boggie the Fruit-and-Nut scheme

had ever seen. A pure dr-eeam.

He made the seat frae a kitchen chair,

and drilled it tae the widden frame-

Remember? The fence panel that we borrowed

frae the back eh Mr Bain’s? And then

he bolted  it together tae look the same as widen  cross.

 

Willie bagged first go.

 

He pulled the boggie up the hill.

Right oot the top of the street and wow!

There I wis, racing him doun the hill

like Seb Co aboot to cross the line and claim his gold,

when Willie’s orange helmet slipped doun ower his eyes –

and the next thing I kent-

A wis lying on the kerb – an awfy surprise-

and wi a skint knee. And Willie – he wis flying oor ma heed

and as you ken the blooming boggie didnae ken tae stop,

it  smashed  into the back of Mr Law’s new fancy Ford  –

we both grat ye ken –

 

We knew we whaur deid  –

but is no oor fault officer –  Ian never put any breaks on it.

© Kirsty Lear-Grant

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Author:

Writer and Poet. MLitt Creative Writing BA Hons English Literature

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