Elephant

One afternoon in SE1…

‘You can’t move me. I ain’t some toy…’ A teenage boy got pushed as people shuffled into a packed lift at Elephant and Castle. ‘I’m a soldier. Don’t watch me.’

Rammed. Going up. Battling to keep his cool whilst saving face. ‘God’ll have a strong judgement for you. I’m a soldier. I ain’t some toy. Don’t watch me…’ The boy mumbles and loops his warning. Hip bag and all black sportswear.

‘Hmm,’ a nearby woman sounds. Forties, looking local. Huddled beside him, she interjects occasionally when he trails off before his declaration wheel-ups again. Goading sarcasm or a quiet chorus to quell desiderate recognition: it’s hard to tell.

The boy continues until the elevator doors slide open. Commuters spill forth. He waits behind someone and slips after them through closing turnstiles.

Stepping outside, hood goes up. It’s raining still. Scanning to cross the London Road.

Boy, then a young black male, later a man: I identified with reductive designations for too long.

Behold, a soldier. Manhood almost upon him. Doubtful though that he’ll soon be a man.