High Heid Yin

The High Heid Yin

I stood on the station platform

And watched as the convoy flew by

Four outriders

Two range rovers

And an unmarked sedan.

A less important leader, I surmised.

A man leaned out of a tenement window

And roared to his pal below

‘That’s the high heid yins!’

‘The whit?’

‘The high head yins. In the motor.’

‘The whit?’

‘Ach, never mind.’

And I wondered if, from the back of the Range Rover,

Or maybe inside the sedan,

The high head yin looked through the tinted glass

At the man at the window,

At the woman on the platform,

At the watching world

And resolved to mind.

Photo by Brecht Denil on Unsplash