Without masks in thin jackets they haunt
the shopping centre dodging bored security
and gangs of old women leaning on empty trolleys.
They stop behind Primark where the poor shop for clothes
made by the even poorer.They know the cameras’ blind spots.
So the perty, still oan Joe?
As dusk falls on the centre, window-shoppers head home.
Hands jangling loose change in pockets, the lads consider
the cost of carry-outs, the cost of staying at home.
They think of the dangers of watching the big gemm
not on terraces, not in pubs. But alone.