A Litter of Roads
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Sacked from his Official Post
He is a functionary and slovenly
Tower blocks surround him
In the pubs he drinks gin,
Say goodbye wonder why
Police pull up in Mercs & BMWs
A breed apart.
A gormless copper berates boys playing ball
The cops score some shit offa the boys
Get back on the road to nowhere
The white clouds are endless.
Around the bus station
The same rowdy travellers
On a day of digging and earth moving
Their sweat drips into the soil.
It is mid-July and they work overtime.
Who knows what they have to eat.
A day laying down a tiny part of a new road
Sweat drips down into the soil.
Every day is difficult.
The workers work-argue all day
They wish inaction was on its way.
dip their faces into towels
then grunt when their fathers
arrive home after eight hours graft.