Stealing Carol Anne Duffy

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Stealing Carol Anne Duffy

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The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman.
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Midnight. He looked magnificent a tall, white
mute

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beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate

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with a mind as cold as the slice of ice

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within my own brain. I started with the head.

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Better off dead than giving in, not taking

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what you want. He weighed a ton his torso,

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frozen stiff, hugged to my chest, a fierce chill

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piercing my gut. Part of the thrill was knowing

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that children would cry in the morning. Lifes
tough.

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Sometimes I steal things I dont need. I
joy-ride cars

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to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look.

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Im a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a
camera.

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I watch my gloved hand twisting the doorknob.
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A strangers bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like this
Aah.

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It took some time. Reassembled in the yard,
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he didnt look the same. I took a run

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and booted him. Again. Again. My breath ripped
out
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in rags. It seems daft now. Then I was standing
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alone amongst lumps of snow, sick of the world.
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Boredom. Mostly Im so bored I could eat myself.

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One time, I stole a guitar and thought I
might

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learn to play. I nicked a bust of Shakespeare
once
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flogged it, but the snowman was strangest.
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• You dont understand a word Im saying, do you?