Roundabout ways

Written by: Mark Dugdale

Multiple lanes act like multiple brains
twoing and froing
the left one not knowing where the right one’s going

Wide lanes come up the rear
creating a pen, holding breath
before escape is possible all things are impossible

Bear-hugging shut an exit
inside monster raging
in a hibernate status
its ritual hiatus

Of inside mashed potatoes
mixing with beans, afraid to fart
in case it starts clenching fists
squeezing ‘til it’s difficult to breathe
they tease and please each other
on the straight and narrow

Holding straight and narrow

Forming an arrow

Blood rushing ahead, fixing a target
to the centre
of excellence it’s certain
close the curtains

A roundabout weighs down
guilty as a blood-stained pillow

It’s coming

The roundabout’s coming.