The scrambler bike kept coming,

the noise of a jet plane flying along the Linacre Road

signals war at the one a.m. backfire

and the generals in the quivering boots

make sure that the troops on the ground

are then told to remove their helmets on the count of three

and let the special beat try and detain and interrogate

the fast moving squadron disturbing the peace.

 

The soft rubber tread grips the road and the black spot

where the light should blaze

is all too easy to imagine but it’s too late