The Night Riders (2003)
The mini-cab crept slowly, Knight-Rider
Ninja Turtle-eyed
shifting into first gear
seeking lines against the blackness
of smoke-shadowed rising walls
of Aldgate alleyways
and licked the kerb.
“That’s it!” cabman shouting
touting for a tip.
Tipped out from a ratted hole
to yellow fusion and cacophony
I opened wide my eyes
and stepped the kerb.
Here was odoriferous stainless steel potted
waffled scarf Isle of Bengali
Here was to be smothered in third
generation
immigration
love life and generosity.
I came in from the cold and held
my hands and palms
upright
unhenna-ed
asking for a space.
“Hip Hop club over there!”
Nodding. Thanking. Not mocking
the restaurant delboys
I left the cuddling lane
and was hit
by mirrors and people in silhouettes
and couples on sofas
and bottles on floors.
I rooted my body against the speakers
of massive
with respect
CK replaced the cumin in my nose
and settled
on my back throat
I was gutteral tongue-ing
like the black rapper unseen
In Big Smoke
but spotted.
The Brylcreem mopped Cliffs of the outside
charmed me with
White Teeth
smiling.
The night man on the rostrum
opened me, devoured me
cursing.
Beanie Man, Red Man, Night Man
He warmed my right side, night side
and I brushed the dancers, sistren
balanced on 3 stripes and shell toes.
“DJ! Kick that beat! What was once dark Hip Hop
is now cool”
DJ T skidded tin-tinny bell,
an Eminem riff
on top of killing Kella fields of thunder
repeating and fine.
So my belly vibrated
to the heartbeat of a nation
One Love
And I felt soothed, safe and comfortable
in a darkened dance place.
Outside under street lights of
the brewery yard
Brudders in Bengali clapped, laughed aloud
Saw us through their almond eyes
Britishers fooled by music fashion
Tonight they are the spectators
as the kept-clean stage
fills tightly with the MC s shouts
for denim-clad jogger-swaddled
rappers
to come out
to twist tongues on gold teeth
and open mouth
the mics.
We formed one hunchback
we the children of the night
We dog-nodded our heads together
One Nation disturbed and at once still.
Licence ended
Abruption
A 3 point plug interruption cut
the lasers.
Hunchback reared fragmented
shoe danced feet shuffled off
plucked handbags
from drink dribbled sofas
from amongst the stink spent ends
Outside creeping a corner a menace crawled
reflecting
shut doors of curry houses
and silver belled boutiques.
“Come ride wid us:
We are the night riders
bandana-ed and slim
shady an solid
Goldie an rimmed
Geddin the car.”
The smiley taxi touts waved slender
brown arms into the early hours.
Here comes one DJ trundling a trolley
vinyl protected.
Swooped on, he lights a fag.
In the gap in the wall
Knight Rider has returned on time
Whispered in Micra.
***********************************************************************Gillian Muir 280803