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…incongruous car

 

alien

 

shiny-red, carwash-clean

 

not the usual

sharp edges

 

not stolen, like glances

not abandoned, like puppies

not torched, like memories

not peeling, like marriage

not rusting, like opportunity

not dumped, like dreams

not burnt out, well…

 

his coat was left on a rock

overlooking the industrial estate

while drinkers and drivers

leave the Rose and Crown

past farms

and blissful sheep

 

his purple face

his bloated tongue

the hosepipe and

the kitchen knife and

the stomach wounds and

the shiny-red, blood

 

he stares like buzzards

catching hot air

from the engine

as the coppers

let the fumes out

 

they joke about it

concerned as cows

“What a waste

of leather seats, ha ha”

before they drive home

to tea with the wife

 

“Good day luv’?”

 

“Aye, usual.”



from 'Urban Birdsong' 2010
http://amzn.to/rN5hBG

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