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.