Cars

Saturday mornings, in beaconsfield, meant

surveys of shelves, packed with toy cars

All arranged neatly, our favourite shop

dusty and clean at the same time

Pocket money tonkas and matchbox cars

were our friends, named

Redhead, Blue, Dull

There was Planet Earth, who was green, some had

Hot wheels, General Motors grime

My brother and I, too young for dinkys,

Logged all the cars’ accomplishments

in an orange-covered exercise book

Pairs pushed, one-car skids, then bedtime

My staircase game occupied boyish hours

Cars on every tread, my soul

peaceful around lengthy concentration

and vehicles racing in daytime