Saturday, 10 January 2015

Poem: Revolting Car

Inside of my car
You are
It looks like someone has been moulting

The passenger foot-well
The pocket on the door
Since when did these become a store
For plastic bottles
Wrappers, hair clips?
As the car corners, everything slips

I park the car
And am disgusted
If mess is a crime, then I am busted!

All the dust and all the crumbs
Pressed into seats by my kids bums
Not one inch of cloth is clear
You'd think they ate their dinner here!

I spot a blackened banana skin
And realise my car is no more than a bin
What kind of human being am I
To drive a wheeled version of a pig sty?

So I clean it out
Crumbs, dust and hair wisps
And then someone opens a packet of crisps......

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