He drives people now,

In a car preloved for decades.

And people comment

- Giggle-smile-shrug -

On the car’s shabby-sheen,

Absence of cup-holders

And how amusing to see a tape deck.

Not that they mind, they insist,

Sitting back swilling good wine in

Places with Michelin Stars.

We always give him a little extra

Poor chap-it-must-be-tough-pass-the-olives-please.

 

He drives people now,

In a car preloved for decades

And tells me

In perfect English

Of his life

Before the war,

Before the long terrifying dash to freedom,

Before the borders closed.

 

He drives people now,

In a car preloved for decades.

Chewed fingers on the wheel,

Anxiety-choked

Yet smooth-navigating foreign traffic,

He tells me of years at university,

Of studies abroad,

Of his job as an engineer,

Of his apartment with sweeping views,

Of weekends in his house in the country,

Of evenings in restaurants with friends

Sitting back swilling fine wine.

 

He drives me now,

In a car preloved for decades.

And I say – gabbling maybe? -

That I really wish I had a tape for his tape deck.