last lap
he’s driving up and down the country
a proud man with a big…
wheel between his legs
he’s taking rubbish here, tat there
but not taking any crap off anyone
but if he closed his eyes
the lorry would keep rolling on and on
the cabin would cocoon him
it’s warm
the amber lights would stretch on and on
he’s wearing polyester blue trousers
a sewn-in seam gracing the middle of the front
trading motorway for carriageway
not imagining there could be another way
these days, his thighs…
they form a lap
as he completes another lap
he thinks that’s not right for a real man
mostly, his thighs…
they form a lap
as he completes another lap
he thinks that’s not right for a real man
his thoughts drift
his eyes close
the sounds blur
his eyes close
but the road stretches on
i think i’m in love