Roadies

Mike Bell/ February 1, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

I sat, aged thirteen,
Between stages,
Shepperton Studios:
Burning my fingers,
I mastered heat-shrinking,
As flared-roadies,
rolled fags,
and without thinking,
laughed, doubled-up,
jokes about sex;
Beyond my experience,
I shrank the next.