Parallel Petrol Pictures Poem by C Richard Miles

Parallel Petrol Pictures



I watched the petrol
By the pavement-edge
As I waited for my bus
Where, by the parallels
Subduing rough tarmac,
Painted there by human hand,
Constructed to constrain
Each passing vehicle
That dared to stop
From waiting overlong,
Fuel floated, flowing free.

Though still in paired procession,
It passed, unheeding,
In doubled dribbles
Silently along the street,
Which eddied as they moved
And misted sedately
In a liberated snub,
Mocking the restriction
Of those two red lines
Which shouted. “Do not stop.”

The slick had no intention
Of staying to pay homage
But, unconcerned, the streamlets
Sauntered, laughed and dawdled
Whilst meandering, regardless,
Through coarse granite chippings
Dulled by blunt bitumen.

One stream was forced to split
Into a dozen braids
By an adamant section
Of gruff gravel
But even it reunited
To sally on unsullied.

So the pair of petrol rivers
Ran their ribboned way
Propelled by drifting rain
To trace their rainbow sheen
Along once drab, dull,
Dust-caked city streets
And add their peacock glamour
To the grimy gutter’s gloom.

That morning, at the stop.
Their gleam caused me
To pause awhile and gaze
At intricate intimacy
Illuminating magically
Those too-short moments
In that storm-strewn day.

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