3 Poems

By George Vincent

Pissed

Whisky singing
And you wake up
Like a miner coming out of the black pit
Naked with her
Mood
What did I do?
You pissed yourself
On the metro then
A lost hour trudged in moonlight puddles
Before the pissed jeans
Thank God
Walked you home

Pothole Car Park

In Blyth
Pothole car park
Bitter and bacon gut-rot another Monday
Cherry blossoms open their pink pussies
In the corners of frozen fields
Thrown in gold by the morning sun
A thousand things to look at again
And nowhere to keep them
The brown liver-spotted leaf on the windshield
The supermarket van with an overheated engine and no coolant
We should learn to just stay in one place
Too many worms in the soil
Not enough fruit
Sooner or later
Something is bound to explode

Behind the Tractor

The tractor slowed the traffic
And the big wheels hocked up dirt on my van
And the wind turbines in the field
Stopped rotating in the thick fog
I was breaking too hard
Because I can’t see in the dark
I’m not a fucking owl or bat
They’ll probably pull me up on that
As well as being late for 3 of today’s drops
Up and down the back roads
Door to door
The sat-nav spazzing
Not knowing which bridge to cross to get over the Wansbeck
Getting in and forgetting where the keys go
Or where the damaged lemon was
I’m a turncoat supermarket employee
Buying my beer from Tesco when I work for Sainsburys
Because it’s cheaper
And because
Because
I can’t remember the reason

George Vincent is a writer from Newcastle Upon Tyne. He works as a delivery driver.