Regga Nights Part 2
Tap. Tap. Tap.
‘Miss! You can’t stay in there. A cab has been rung.’
I pull the chain and open the door
Unfamiliar surroundings
I wobble
Thankful for the narrow corridors
Hands slap against the walls
Walking with arms and legs
Outside was pitch black
Freezing cold
The streets empty
Apocalyptic
Crossing the road was a marathon
Hallucinating
Going around on a tarmac hamster wheel
I wait in the phone box
The stench of pee
Time stretched
Minutes spun into hours
The orange light
Atop the cab
A blessed sight
Growing closer
I sat in the back and gave the address
Then threw up
The cabby was not a happy camper
I lay on the back seat
Hearing petrol sloshing around
And threw up
More discreetly this time
Or so I thought
‘You’ll have to pay to clean that’
And
After what seemed like years
Tracey’s place
‘Give me a minute, I’ll get the money’
In the house
Up one flight
To Tracey’s bedsit
F#%k!
Not home
‘I’ll look after you my ****!’
F#%k!
A man on the top floor came down
‘What’s all the noise? You can stay in my room. We are friends, practically dating.’
Beggars can’t be choosers
I lay on his single bed
Shivering
He mothers me
Wrapping me up in a sliver hyperthermia blanket
And I lay
Crackling like a bag of crisps
There’s a knock at the door
A couple of Britain’s finest…pigs
‘Miss, you need to pay the cab’
‘I have money, in my sister’s room, but it’s locked. You can smash the door down. It’s in the birdcage, under the sandpaper’
I wanted to die
In peace
‘We can’t do that, Miss. If you don’t pay the cab we will be forced to take you down the station’
‘You'll have to carry me’
‘I’ll pay, Officer, she can get me back later. I’m her sister’s good friend, boyfriend actually. I look after them both’
Copyright © Cheryle Sanders | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment