Pristine bodywork, tinted glass
Sexy, lithe and deadly
I lie in wait, caged in the showroom
Dying to be unleashed
Run your fingers over my dashboard
Pop my hood and you will see
My four litre V-8 heart
The beast at the centre of my being
Tough off-road, I eat up the dunes
On the highway I really shift
The young men come and see me
They just cannot resist
Richly dressed, with money to burn
They can have any motor they want
They think that they will choose me
But it is I that chooses them
Sixteen years old and full of vigour
Just the kind I like
He climbs inside and guns the engine
I'll give him the ride of his life
Cautiously at first, he drives me
Taking care of his pride and joy
But the lure of speed and open road
Proves an opportunity not to be missed
From Doha driving northwards
On the Al Khor coastal road
Metal to metal with revs to the max
Racing with his friends
He does not see the workers' bus
Dimly lit in the evening haze
Overtaking a tardy dump truck
Blocking the carriageway
I scream aloud as he hits the brakes
Pads grip the discs in vain
Glass shatters, metal crumples
I am whole but my looks have gone
Now I'm at one with my beautiful boy
What is left of him at least
Those parts which do not decorate the road
Spatter ceiling, dash and seats
Barry Alexander
Doha
November 2014
YOU ARE READING
Coalescence
PoesíaI am attempting to branch out and free myself from the constraints imposed by the label 'war poet'. I once wrote a poem (sadly lost) which voiced my frustration at my apparent inability to write about anything other than combat and its aftermath. ...
