Knock-a-door-run

We used to ring on doorbells
then run away.
Sometimes we were chased
and had to take shortcuts through cul-de-sacs
hide behind dustbins.
Sometimes one of us was caught
snagged
an arm held by a stranger
being marched round to your mum.

It was knowing that someone inside would be thinking
'I wonder who that is'
it was seeing silhouettes through the net curtain
a voice calling 'there's someone at the door.'
The more we did it the more cocky we got
wait until the last possible second
the sound of the telly being turned off
the dangle of a keyring
before making the most of the lightness of our Nike Air

It was the togetherness
just the four of us and the sound of the doorbell.
It was the exhileration of running down a long straight road
a man in a dressing gown flailing behind
knowing he would never catch us.