Strange constellations
The fairy lights danced on the wrap-around police shades as the merry-go-round spun to a halt.
The police officer's gun was pointed at the child's over-sized head.
The officer's sunglasses were black unblinking pools. If eyes are windows on the soul, no-one was admitting being at home.
In the background the shrieks of children and anxious yelling parents.
'Get away from it!', shouted a red-faced and sweating man to a sobbing flaxen-haired girl on a wooden hippo.
The armed officer tightened his banjo-wire lips and ground out a series of quickfire orders.
'Dismount from the unicorn!'
'Keep your hands where I can see them!'
Frustrated by the lack of visible wrists the officer abandoned handcuffs in favour of roping his prisoner's arms to his sides with the string of fairy lights.
At the internment centre, based roughly on skin-colour, he was processed with the Afghans and Syrians.
A sympathetic Afghan kid of about 12 helped untie the dead and broken string of fairy lights.
'You're not from around here!', the boy commented, as they shuffled together in line to the processing desk.
A kid from the Mexican cohort hooted with laughter. 'We're all the same now! All with a one-way ticket to the wall'.
At the processing desk the customs officer mechanically outlined the rules.
'If you have money, or you can get it, please step to one side.
'You will be accommodated in the Towers Hotel to the left until your money runs out.
'If you have no money you will proceed in an orderly fashion to the wall for involuntary expatriation.
'You are allowed one phone call.'
The child clasped his long delicate fingers round the hand-set and tapped in a number.
A subtle orange light appeared. The broken string of fairy lights floated gently from the ground and began to pulse red, white and blue.
The electric fairy lights danced on his darkened eyes and reflected strange constellations.
The child appeared not to notice as he puckered his lips doubtfully, swallowed and spoke his first word: 'Ell-i-ot?'.