Proper Followers

Monday, March 19, 2012

Dream - Five

Sitting in the back of the jam jar
waiting for them to answer
listening to them going on about
the weather breakfast last night

I can see them in my mind
their bleach blond hair
and that feint smell of chocolate
and cigarette smoke permeates
the air - the air that I have to breathe

If my arms were longer I could drive
like I used to everywhere all the time
little old back seat driver me

Where are we going I ask again
they ignore me tut turn the radio on
cricket they don't like that
they don't know what they like
and I don't know if I like them
anymore than they like me

They're here because they don't
want a proper job nine to five -
so they come at eleven thirty
and go home at half-past three

They push me about and drive
me crazy they dress me up
to take me out and wheel me
round the park they drive me
round the bend sideways sometimes

They say speak-up and say-it-again
they're not listening they're playing
with their mobile phone - texting
each other. Hello, am I even home?

1 comment:

  1. I can't say I understood this poem as much as I'd like to. It seemed abstract. There were images in it though, that truly caught my eye. The faint smell of chocolate and cigarettes, for example. I can smell it right now.