Sport 25: Spring 2000
Louise Wrightson — KG2097
Louise Wrightson
KG2097
The red Nissan van,
(1500, Sunny-Vanette)
has been parked
in the lay-by
near our house
for months.
My brother
reported it
to the authorities.
Nothing happened,
except that I grew
exceptionally fond of it.
When it rained,
I got out of bed
in the black of night
and wound up
all the windows
that weren't broken.
I washed the windscreen
when the neighbours
weren't watching.
I counted the parking tickets
stuffed in the side-pockets
and then, defiantly,
burnt the lot.
I found a Swiss Army knife
in the glovebox,
that had no gloves
that I could see.
The knife had GREG
picked out carefully
on the red plastic handle.
If I'm at a loose end,
(which is most of the time)
I sit in the driver's seat.
I pretend to be GREG,
hair slicked back, on his way
to chat up Sunny-Vanette.
Now, there's a woman
to be reckoned with.
I've sent the authorities
a copy of this poem,
so it's possible they'll come
any minute now
and take the van away.
I'll be upset for a while,
but like life
and its vicissitudes,
I'll accept it.
I was in love, briefly,
with a man just like the red van.
He'd travelled a long way
and wasn't going anywhere.