Exit by Jonathan Butcher

As I shuffle around street corners,
I feel their shadows, almost hear
the muscles in their faces contort
into frowns.

I hold back in fear, as the old
memories slide back like unwanted
presents, and the grime from the
pavement seems even greyer than
usual.

And this allows me to picture an alternative
back drop, if only for a few seconds, a back
drop that always seems far to much effort to
achieve.

They stand behind me, fists like rusted
shovels, grinning like fools, knowing
my one and only exit is now truly blocked.

I allow them this grace, to let them have
their crowning moment, let them think
they've left their mark.