I wonder how much light filters through
Those tiny windows?
Does the meagre sunlight hold back the gray
Of the colourless estate?
I think about this as I walk
Past the men who look like shadows

Of their former selves outside Lloyd's pharmacy, sallow
Faced men creep out like weeds through
The decrepid soil. They shake and shuffle rather than walk.
Little faces peer out from dirty windows
With yellowed netting on the Brunswick estate.
The shadows' faces are thin and ashen-gray.

'Piss off! Stop 'anging 'round me 'ouse!' Screams Mrs Grey
The kids laugh in her face and swallow
Up all the attention they are deprived of, on this estate.
A million stories unfold through
The tower block windows
Of Croxton Walk.

No-one runs here, everyone walks;
There are no meetings or appointments to keep on these gray
Streets. Miss Murray hangs out of her window
Holding one of her many babies, talking to Sarah Marlow,
You know wot? Its true!
All the men are lazy bastards on this estate!

'Our Claire's fella's done well, works given 'im a BMW estate
An' all. Oh for God's sake Callum, you're driving me up the wall!
Look, mummy's not got any money until the benefits come through!
Look darlin', mummy can't pay,
Now put it back!' A shadow
Sits next her, a number is called and she approaches the window.

Shattered glass from smashed car windows
Glitter like stars in the gutter; the streets on this estate
Scowl beneath the useless shadow
Of the homÅ?pathic center and its graffiteed walls.
I keep my head down and make my way
Through.

The shadows elongate from the walls within;
Steel-front windows negotiate the sunlight,
Grey clouds soak me wet-through......

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