Thumbing

Dim pre-dawn.
Growling panthers
muted by fog,
headlights loom
and taillights
recede.
The parade
passing by.

Face tingling.
Thumb rising
to water colour
yellow beams.
Dragon seeds

And then
in their swooshing
wake
hands buried deep
in hip pockets.
rattling change
on numb digits

Leicester
to Newcastle.
I’m Monday morning
lonely
Then airbrakes.
A gentle kiss
Red lights, lovers eyes.
Angel lands on the M18
Scania is her name.

– Dave Kavanagh

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