In Hamburg
an American girl
climbed aboard
sitting next

to the Southend teacher
with the spectacles
and loud mouth
and she looked back

at the rest of you
and said
Hi you guys
how’s it going?

murmured replies returned
Moira said
behind
her cupped mouth

a ******* Yank
is all we need
you looked
windowward

spying new buildings
post-war
the could-be-any-where
kind of set up

the driver drove off
the Polish mother
and daughter
muttered

in their tongue
Moira’s hips
pushed into yours
as the mini bus

turned sharp
down some side street
the American girl
chatted up

the driver
some long haired
hippy type
smoking and puffing

and you remembering
the night before
the tent up
the canvas tight

and you and Billy
down on your bags
he staring up
at the canvas  

green and unclean
you listening to Moira
in the next tent
sharing with some

unfortunate giving it
the rant and rave
about some misgivings
in her Glasgow tone

Billy raising his eyes
in disbelief
and you wondering
if ever she silenced

her tongue and tone
and charmed her
fearsome stare
whether you’d be happy there

lying beside her
kissing her neck
or lips or cheek
or nestling between

her small plump ****
but looking beside you
as the mini bus
moved off at a pace

you saw her sour face glare
at the American’s head
and thought you’d rather kiss
the old Polish mother instead.