Saturday 3rd September



Hands on the wheel, no spill, no fuss. Take it to the races,
all the aces shining. Clock ticking on the ink of the morning
news, it’s all gone electric.

What happened to all my boys, laughing long into the night,
full of the juice of runway youth? Riding together in a
rocket-faced Ford, footprints on the inside of the the windscreen,
passenger side. Remember how we recoiled when you told us how they
got there? Head between speakers in the back seat, wasted,
Brainstorm, distortion, bliss. King joker, TV repair man, chauffeur,
hot in pursuit of a thrill or just the nearest exit out of there.


3 thoughts on “Saturday 3rd September

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.