Red Swingball bats and the Disney eye
of an inflatable dolphin pressed against
the hatch of the Renault 16 in front.
Lorries ahead, cabs to trailers to cabs;
faces at coach windows, all lanes blocked.
I slump in the back seat. We edge forwards.
I twiddle with the window winder.
Nearer the bridge. And see it: black smoke,
down the embankment a white car,
a man on the hard shoulder. Almost home,
round my mate’s, tell him about the joke shop
on the pier, the big dipper, that car on fire.
