~
as expected we queue
resignedly, with becalmed complicity
toward yet another bottleneck,
my minds-eye drifts back
to a previous lifetime where
I am gunning south on the
Great North Road.
It’s early in the roaring twenties
on a stink wheel Rudge Python,
the fog’s as thick as custard
sodden oilskins drip
clinging head to foot,
I witness vague grey hallucinations
dancing around my head
as piercing eyes like twin
searchlights cleave the smog
a startled back-arched cat
is keening through the mire
from a grassy carrousel
as we slow to a crawl
creeping past the gatekeeper
like frightened timid mice
senses regained
a century on with
nine lives nearly spent
by damage, theft, graffiti
and sundry pranks galore
the nameless puss still scowls
as we mice
having multiplied
no longer fear her glare!
*
© Graham R Sherwood 12/23
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 