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Dave Robertson
Poems
Jan 2022
Marked space
I breathed deep
as my fingers curled on the wheel
and gripped leather,
my memory clutched at vinyl
the engine was running,
number plates grinning yellow
as the utter ******* torrent of thoughts
ignored the exhaust
the exhausting
I could drive out forward or reverse
well rehearsed either way
these wheels just donβt know
#carpark
#thougts
#carpoem
#ingear
Written by
Dave Robertson
46/M/UK
(46/M/UK)
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