MEETING MY OWN GHOST

My Uncle's old blue van
our delighted childhood

transported from train to farm
creator of our Summer

holiday

as magical as anything
could have been

to our open
innocent minds

lies forgotten
& forgetting

behind the barn
rusting in rain

stung by sun
in summers come & gone

an orange rust
delicate as lace

chewing like cancer
into its solid blue body.

A chicken drives it now
perched upon its steering wheel

going nowhere
fast

clucking'' Get outta de way! '

Rotted rubber
still clinging to the wheels

like flesh
leaving bone

protected by gangs
of highly strung nettles

ravished by weeds
& overgrown trees

me & some newly laid eggs
jostled together in the passenger seat

a cockerel crowing
he has all the back seat

the windshield
flecked with years

of flattened flies
a multitude of squashed bugs

as we speed
into the past

meeting my own ghost
with tears in my eyes.