A smooth and straight, an ordinary road
But in contrast to the houses of the area with trim hedges
Round their gardens with their cherry and apple trees,
That smooth and straight, and ordinary road, was an outsider
And ditto to re-occupied Nissen huts.
Heath grass had been cut short up to the edge of the road.
Down the centre there were proper markings
And cat's eyes. Now, I retain a picture of a squeaky clean
Smooth surface, colour a silvery, smoky grey.
Cars, trucks, some US military,
Would pass you by, grouped or singly, brusquely,
An air of unconcern native to them,
Engines' noises punctuating dominance
And if you ever thought to walk, even slide
A foot onto this road, vehicles
Would not stop and there would result outrage.
Sometimes I dreamt of a distant city.
I figured plain buildings hard to get to know, imposing,
In my mind it would be a quiet place
And, of course,
Important. Fifty miles; what
Anyone would do there, beyond imagining;
It all meant something different
At less than seven years old.
Those days we caught a bus, which went the other way,
To go to school. We had to cross that silver/grey road,
That inflexible road, then walk
A furlong or so up a gentle *****
Across the grassy heath to a winding
Road shaded by a deciduous wood, with crows;
A bendy, friendlier road.
With some of us larking about we went in a group
To wait for the bus.
Anywhere near that first road,
I walked close to the parent escorting us.
I would always feel unsafe near such an unkind road.
