Poem

SCOFFLAW

There’s a lighthouse chasing us
just as I forewarned
when she jumped the queue
veered the red Renault
onto a prohibited bus lane
on New Kent Road.

We idle on the verge. A world tilts.
Bobby, rotund in blue,
knocks boldly on the pane.
She lowers the window.

“Well, then?” he asks,
“When I passed my driving test,
she says to the wheel,
“there were no bus lanes.”

“Young lady,” he says,
to her profile, “When
I passed my driving test,
there were no women drivers.”

“That’s sexist. Isn’t it?” she says.
“Getting cheeky, eh?” he says.
She giggles. He laughs, “Don’t
do it again, luv.” Nods.

I nod back. He plods
back to the lighthouse.
She shifts gears.
We give each other a high five.
In the rear view,
lighthouse appears closer than it is.

By Rafiq Kathwari / @brownpundit

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