Pull over and pull out all the stops

Neutral as in the gearing
wearing away
one cog at a time,
one tooth every day.

The kerbside like the wayside is
a place to meet good
I’ve only ever met
the ones I would like to forget,

each time the engines misfire
I tire of it and
make do
with the people I knew,
of course
they’re mostly dead
and the conversations I
have with them
are limited to
what goes on in
my head.

It’s my bread and butter
I mutter
to myself
because no one
is out there
to share this with.

at times I wish that
I was a mountain man,
off plan,
now that’s a plan
until I realise the cranks shaft’s
and I stay on

© 2017, John Smallshaw.