Chick’n Chips

Chick’n Chips from my
favorite Sarf London store —
you know the one,
bullet holes in the door.
Customers scream,
and they shout —
heaven knows
what they’re on about.

Consumers eclectic,
including me,
pondering
what to have
for their tea.

Chicken thighs?
Dodgy pies?
Maybe even,
Curly fries?

Standing there, contemplating,
I wonder how long
I’ll be waiting.

Spicy wings?
Onion rings?
Napkin rings?
You must be joking.

Delivery riders —
they seldom smile.
Perhaps
they’ve gone
that extra mile.

Living on the edge
is never dull —
that is, until
you awake
in hospital.

I’m up the
Norwood junction
Its primary function?
The magical
Multicultural gumption

That special Something
The grime
That makes Sarf London glow.
(drops mic)

PS I’m not making up the bullet holes.