I’d only popped in
to buy lunch, as usual,
and one of those high-in-sugar

latte cans for a colleague
who needed her five a day
and by 'five a day' I mean coffee,

when I saw him, I don’t know
who, but him, with a few pasties,
plastic-smothered, a bag of

what I think are the hard mints
****** only in moments
of desperation on car trips.

I thought of stopping him, I did,
a flash of something heroic,
tackling him rugby-style

on the pavement, back slaps
from strangers praising me on
my predilection for crime prevention.

But I didn’t. I feel bad, but look,
I had a tuna sandwich in one hand,
crisps and two drinks in the other,

plus, the queue was getting longer, too.