A night time disturbance

The sirens made me look
another boy, a runner
from the borstal fences
lit up like thirty foot tennis courts,
knee deep in mud by now.

They'll catch him
they all ways do,
he'll be back in church
on Sunday with a smirk
and a smokey eyed pose
for the confirmation girls,
their innocence
lap dancing over his
dangerous, laid back torso.

The colliery lights distract me
from the chase,
they frame the concrete
office blocks
like a dystopian novel.
A tale of tunnels beneath the house.
A mile down,
mutant workers bred underground
with diamond tipped fingers
designed for cutting coal.

The helicopter has switched
to infra red,
a Martian tripod, wars with
his world as the spot light
tracks him down.
It won't be long now before
he's back playing tennis
on his own.

With that thought I get back in bed
and dream him into our kitchen,
follow his muddy boot prints
across the tiled floor and up to
our bedroom.