Yorkshire Boy Racer

‘…these hot days, is the mad blood stirring’
muttered under my breath
into my rear-view mirror.

A young white face, appearing pinched and poor
made to look all the poorer by
the dolled-up car he’s driving

He missed the turn for the estate, the turn I’m sure was his,
so we’re playing ‘The Sweeney’
on a sun drenched road.

 

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