#2,439 Sunday

Alone on my driveway I bid a
form of entertainment for an
aged neighbour
[she shuffles
her walking trolley alongside
her parked-up car] –
we swap
our cul-de-sac-chats above a
mash-up of gravel & tarmac –
tricky in worn socks –
As if at
a Tory revue a peal of bells &
rude exhausts rip
[classic car
stuff] –
their offered-up roars
greet my Sunday morning of
idle talk & fears of loneliness
in my ongoing shoeless state