On hotrod bend

tarmac despair

I face twilight traffic with big yellowed eyes

a flickering herd of diesel approaching

 

solid white lines and shrivelled feelings

fight off enthusiasm to be a tarmac matador

 

eight valves of lorry rage closes in

bull bars, galvanised, chromed

for the storming kill

 

futile fight of ill fated tears and hurt

rolling, searing eyes burning acid 

 

closing vision of  mangled certainties

 on  hotrod bend

 

angry bulls on their horns  

stopping

bulking

 

“get the f**k off the road’