The Street

by Gerard Lewis-Fitzgerald

The street I grew up on.
The street of the Salvos’ brass band.
The street I nearly cracked my skull on.
The street I swung a cat on.
The street I was chastised on.
The street that clipclopped with milk horses.
The street that smelled of hot day abattoir.
The street where Dad was kind to lost drunks.
The street of the eyesore that took yonks to build.
The street where we prank-called a taxi.
The street where Dulcie gleaned her gossip.
The street scandalised by bodgies in hotrods.
The street I was bullied on.
Where I sparked Mike’s love of drawing.
Where I shrank from neighbours’ rows.
The street with the shop Dad shoplifted from.
Where I was mistaken for a piano thief.
Where friends sprung me playing UFO.
One street located squarely on Terra Firma,
in a suburb devoid of celebrity.