A Horrible Day

I’ve a new car:
well, new to me like a girlfriend,
not new to the world like a baby.

It’d been still for years,
warm and garaged, kept and maintained,
unused, unmoved, a trophy, not a means.

I spent too much than meant
returning it to minor roads
so I could use it formally.

Of course, on that first drive,
something had to fail;
the fuel return escaped.

My wallet–emptyingly expensive petrol
was gushingly donated
to the road drainage system.

I stopped immediately;
some bastard chucking a lit stub
could have exploded me.

On all the country roads,
in all the country villages,
I broke down outside an old local.

It was lunchtime,
on this, winter’s coldest day yet.
The RAC said a two hour wait.

The pub was shut.

Thanks, Robin, for letting me in anyway.
I owe you one.
Would you perchance appreciate a pint, landlord?

poem

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