Saturday, 29 September 2012

Someone slipped me a mickey at the Robey.
Kev hard driving home on a pill,
shooting clean down the chrome tunnel.
Talking to me through tin can ear horns,
his car sick road bitch,
pulling colours off the street lamps.
On my own;
should I walk home through dark car parks?
If I drove in I'd still have to walk out.
Someone called to sell me car insurance;
'you never fancied driving?'


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