Young Alfie and Jack right on track

with Scalextric all over the lounge

coloured paper crudely discarded

 

"Granddad granddad look i've won!"

said Alfie turning his body

around on his knees

scudding the pile of the carpet.

 

Granddad gazed down from his silent Shop Rider powerchair

like the keeper of the gate all knowing all suffering

leaping the gap of years to find some words

 

"Attaboy young Alfie

but Jack done well too so

better luck next time Jack"

silently turned and disappeared

leaving more light than a resurrection.

 

In the adapted loo with the garage view

he pondered the space within

where the Harley had sat

with its handlebar wrist time

impatient for the past

 

when he had lived that other life

as the world rushed by;

heads would turn,

long days, money and egos to burn. 

 

Porage was bubbling impetuously now,

gliding to the kitchen

he watched the gloop

his hand grasping the saucepan

with a misjudgment of hot and molten speed

as Jack's whoop of triumph

settled a score

as old as the Romans and Vikings

when the wheel was new.