' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Meeting My Own Ghost(For Barry)

My Uncle's old blue van our delighted childhood transported from train to farm creator of our Summer holiday as magical as anything could have been to our open innocent minds lies forgotten & forgetting behind the barn rusting in rain stung by sun in summers come & gone an orange rust delicate as lace chewing like cancer into its solid blue body. A chicken drives it now perched upon its steering wheel going nowhere fast clucking'' Get outta de way! ' Rotted rubber still clinging to the wheels like flesh leaving bone protected by gangs of highly strung nettles ravished by weeds & overgrown trees me & some newly laid eggs jostled together in the passenger seat a cockerel crowing he has all the back seat the windshield flecked with years of flattened flies a multitude of squashed bugs as we speed into the past meeting my own ghost with tears in my eyes.