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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in The Personal Space of U668857

The Ballykelly Road

We were all gob and smart-arsed wit
that night on the Ballykelly road -
full of banter and “craic” - our boozy nucleus
energised the car's interior.

Some dance-hall miles-back,
where no-one “pulled”, was shrugged-off -
a last laugh in wind shivering shirts,
then car-doors slamming out the dark.

It was a black road in full-beam:
cat's eyes, and road-kill;
the lit passing of hedgerow and cow parsley
peripheral to our snug revelry.

Their mad over-take was glancing -
a sudden flood in the rear-view mirror
then a veering arc of passing headlamps
out-running our swearing afterburn.

What I recall is the whirligig
of red brake-lights, cart-wheeling
in darkness - a rotary of red dots
circling the lane's unseen axis;

then you all shock and sudden business
in the back, shouting "get out"
during our cautious slowing approach -
and a snap of black air outside;

a blurred sense of the hard road,
and the hard luck of any night
under the cold stars' erratic scatter;
but you tuned into this high-wire act -

knife-edged, quickened in head-light,
all concern, commanding presence,
advising, assessing, updating
newly hailed arrivals at the scene.

I knew one, though all at odds
with recognition in this dicey blackness.
She joined our supportive gestures,
kneeling over the nearest spilled body

splayed supine, cut-faced
grimacing intermittent moans -
we voiced our group futility;
gave assurances "help was on its way".

I recall an incongruous Lancashire accent
mouthing half-conscious confusion -
some off-duty soldier on a tour of duty
lying face-up on the BallyKelly road -

his and our discontinued night
snap-shut to a cold close - and later
random gusts somewhere in the dark
buffeting our departure in blind billows.




Comments

Alcuin of York - on Apr. 18 2008

I had to look up Ballykelley and "craic". Nice imitation of Irish speech, including the rhythm. I never have been able to put my finger on that Irish rhythm. In any case, nice write, great alliterations, esp. the last line.

And oh yeah, though I've never been to Ireland, the scene evokes vaguely familiar memories. Luckily, I never was involved in that kind of a crash, either as subject or bystander, not because of cleverness, but because of good luck.

Alcuin


U668857 - on Apr. 19 2008

Many thanks, Alcuin. Indeed, luck and the randomness of

events underpins much of this (though I suspect the 

driver was drunk). It's that sudden change or turn in the 

unfolding of time which startles our quotidian nature...BRgds.,Alan. 


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