Image © Copyright Amy Charles Media 2014

3 Mar 2016

Ferrybridge Services

Sat slurping black coffee
in the services,
gone midnight.
You almost kid yourself it's cinematic,
as lorries fly by
in the inside lane:

blurring with the reflections
from rows of seats
in the window.

Premier League highlights
on the plasma in the corner,
probably would've been omitted
from anything cinematic.

Ferrybridge Services,
from the inside, looking out.
You told me how,
when you were younger,
you and your mates
could see this spot;
watching down
from the Warwick estate,
as analogue eyes
sought mischief.

Dialling 999,
reporting bombs,
and then awaiting fleets of patrol cars
to frantically soothe your boredom.

So if this is cinematic,
I guess Shane Meadows might call the shots.
"Sing us some more sink estate sonnets!"
before a lingering frame
on your soya milk latté.

Fiddling with your Dockers,
scowling at the boom mic,
silently rolling a cigarette,
whilst West Bromwich Albion
celebrate in the background.

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