Poem: Rock City
Written June 19, 2017
We are going to Rock City.
Rosa makes us stop at a petrol station.
Goes in and buys tampax and condoms.
Opens the car door laughing hysterically.
Says the boy at the cashier went white
as a sheet when she went up to pay.
I’ve been to Nottingham another time.
There before I stopped by a shop to get
my nose pierced.
Sat on a barstool with the gun making
a minute pinch of pain then I was out in
the sunshine on the pavement.
We are driving to Rock City.
We left the daylight behind
on the Peak District moors.
I know it’s an all-nighter.
There’s a band that plays til three
or four in the morning.
People curl up against the
club skirting boards when they
can’t drink or stand up anymore.
I start craving my own bed and
I am far from it.
We make it through til it’s finished.
Open the metal doors.
Walk past the serious jazz clubs.
Find the car as the sun is up.
I try to sleep in the back seat but don’t.
I watch the energy of the River Derwent
as it rushes to beat the traffic
on the drive home.
By Wendy Stewart