Contemporary social circumstances

'Clutch Control'

The archetypal Sunday driver;
blue skies, green lights -
at moderate speed.

You struggle to remember
the sage advice of your driving instructor,
as you crawl up the hill
hesitatingly, without stalling,
entering the industrial estate.

Snakeyes peer out of windscreen
into blackness of leather and stockings -
highlighted by amber on asphalt,
as you pull up alongside knee-high boots.
You don't stall, but you begin to stutter.










'Fetishism in the New Millenium'

As the cheese grater
finally whittles your wood,
and piles make you tire
of the tower of power,
you finally go hardcore,
and eat your first Pot Noodle.















'The Stud'

Riding your white charger
you overtake on the inside,
flipping the finger to
Bee-Ems and Vee-Dubs alike.
It's seven PM.

Reaching camelot,
you park your Dagenham dustbin,
ready for a lusty assignation
with that working girl made for sin.
It's seven-fifteen PM.

Momentarily disorientated in a flash of delight
you think of speeding penalties as you lie in bed
just as she stops unzipping your flies
to offer you a refund instead.
It's seven-thirty PM;
you're on your own in a king-sized bed.



'Portrait of an Unemployed Selenium Addict'

Unable to get a fix, and
brimming with arrogance
masquerading as self-confidence
you decide to score big;
depositing sugared water
at your local sperm bank.

23rd January 2006, Harry's Lair