Summer Jam

In the still of a summer's evening
the sounds of traffic softened
to a slow heaving breath
as tired roads unwound the busy
knots and aches of a day that had
seemed endless

Sluggish arteries, pothole pocked
suffering chronic neglect, acute accidents
and roadworks, stretching languid
and lazy, guaranteeing mile upon mile
of conical frustration
punctuated by the firefly flicker
of orange warning lights

Windows wound down delivered
naked arms to the blistering, merciless sun
harsh and hot
nettle sharp in a precise blue sky

Heavy sounds, bass and profound, pounded
headache inducing, heartless
heedless, indifferent to the helpless
captive audience
arrested in their automobile auditoriums
each treated in their interminable isolation
to the back window theatre tableau
of the car ahead

An arm
stretched
Here another, draped, cigarette dangling
from the window
a periodical puff of smoke between
prolonged streams, drifted, twisted
like the flight of some weary
ephemeral fly

Faces in profile mouth lines unheard in
the slow dumb show:
perhaps some comment about the heat;
a complaint about the lack of journey's progress,
and the noticeable dearth of workmen actually doing anything;
a smile, affectionate, eyes locked in private lover's attention,
perhaps stirred some jealousy? Nostalgia?
A short moment of joy relieved the monotony
of motionless motoring to the accompaniment of
a mind numbing mantra of mumbling engines

In time, all passing
the queues dissolved like sugar in hot tea
into the wider network of winding lanes
council car parks, and desired destinations
leaving the way clear for the few now
travelling in the dusk
and soon even they will relinquish
the tired road to sleep
lulled by the slow hypnotic blinking
of orange hazard lights.