Lived in a small village
Of which we will see
A fair way from town
But someone to be
Aiming to try and understate
To understand not undermine
And to be free
To pick up a road through the town
Into work
Into office or boozer or
Library shop
Newspaper round and cinema
Ironmonger and motor
Someone's sister had a car
She parked on the hill
She was sex in her car
In short skirt tight shirt
Jacket on her back
Made of leather
Lined with fur
Ringed hands knuckled on her wheel
And her ankle’s playing with a
Buckle on the other side
Of the battered skin of a
Leather boot bearing no
Resemblance to the boot
Creaking under toes of
The other foot
Her knees are never static like
A spark is never still though always in one place
Tight up in her skirt
Sitting in the low seat
With the car's door open
A new song on the radio
And the blues in her heart
© scribler 2004