On our way to the fairground
By Brooklands
Mon, 15 Aug 2005
- 1501 reads
Inbetween stripes of the zebra
crossing, a woman knelt.
She pumped his heart
like an industrial-size ketchup dispenser.
All the while, she was screaming
but we didn't feel so bad:
you could see it was her fault by the Volvo
angled in the road, driver's door open, windscreen
webbed. Pedestrian: he must have gone straight
up and down again
like the weight
used in a Test Your Strength machine.
With our engine idling, we waited
for the ambulance
but it was taking
forever and the guy wasn't going anywhere
so we drove onwards,
one tyre
up on the pavement,
the world briefly askew.
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