Our cab driver pontificated
on dark Sussex roads – this
was his low kingdom – thin
fares between villages [any
drunk phone calls his alone
to turn away] – lord of all – a
man who knew how to save
this world from migrants [&
flu – put on yer mask if your
sitting in front] – a pure cab
kept that way – slowing up –
deer cross here – then quick
to return to foreign-things –
that’s easily solved – his eye
on this narrow Sussex road –
I wouldn’t slow for an A-rab