Teddy Boy


Brylcreem was my best friend
shovelled on to secure
the two sausage rolls on top of my head
and sides swept into a D.A at the back
why anyone would want to look like a
fowl’s posterior I don’t know
or wear the velvet collared drape
that reached past my fingertips
or spend twenty minutes
arching my foot to get twelve inch drainpipes on

I was the bees knees
the hardest kid on the block
drinking coffee and playing pin ball
at the café on Smithdown Road
where all the ‘Teds’ hung out
proudest of all
my brothel creepers
with a chain across each toe
but my mum didn’t know about those.

By Ed Percival