A policeman with a gun

patrolling the perimeter

of the Bull Ring

whilst I watch on,

a deep furrowed look

on my face

and the steam from the tea

wrestling with the open air

opens the memory

of seeing such a thing in New York.

Policed by consent, yet bullets on British streets,

a tag line for the latest West End Show,

doesn’t have the same ring as

Bullets over Broadway,

isn’t as deadly, as yet,

as bullets over Baghdad

and inside I feel fear,