Ford Capri Sex In The Miners Arms Car Park by Paul Tristram

… the in-joke boogie…

“I’m stuck to the plastic backseat!”
she laughed nervously.
Elbowed me a right beauty in the chops
as she scrambled to drag her drawers up
her frantic, wriggling legs.
Getting knicker-elastic caught
in my ‘Mind Of Its Own’ belt buckle.
I knee-d her sharply in the soft, delicate
inside thigh of her left leg,
apologized with a curse,
trod on my own foot
and flew forward
head-butting the door panel.
Dragged my bunched up jeans on
‘Dying Fly Style’
just as The Old Bill approached
and knocked upon the driver’s window.
“No one’s in!” I joked,
no one laughed… not even me.
We were both far over the limit
but she’d managed to ‘Plug’ the keys…
so we were home clear, so to speak,
after the verbal bullshit was over with.
They ignored me when it became apparent
that no arrest was imminent.
“Mary, what on earth are you doing
with the likes of him?
Your husband reported you missing again
12 hours ago… get a cab home, sweetheart!”

paul smoking - Copy
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at You can also read his poems and stories here!

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