Back Seat Driver

A life moves relentlessly
From frame to frame
I watch it from the back row
In the dark

The detective
Knows who the villains are
All he has to do is catch them

Soon a few loose ends
May or may not get tied up
Someone will make a witty comment
And the credits will roll

Then maybe I’ll watch the prequel
Or stumble out into the cold
Streets of reality

Maybe I’ll book a ticket
Stroll along a crowded beach
My sun hat at a jaunty angle

But I’m tired
And even though these seats are uncomfortable
I’m going to have a snooze

Wake me up when it’s all over

Pizza Express

Yes, another poem
In the Pizza Express series

Tuesday, eight o’clock
Newmarket High Street

It’s as quiet as the moon
I sip a large red wine and wait

The Sloppy Joe
Doesn’t want to show

They should rename it
Stroppy Joe