That Lambretta –
sea green, slim-style Series 3 with disc brakes –
is what I want.
It must have the Innocenti mark:
cos being right is crucial
when dandy meets the lumpen.
In stingy brim and midnight blue mohair
I stay pressed, am buttoned down.
Loafers, basket woven, deck rocksteady feet.
Look, I have all the gear
and want to hear the two-stroke snortle
as – French Blue fuelled – I pull away.
Leave the job behind:
with mirrors see every dead angle
of each street corner.
Espresso smart, I must deviate.
Cherry-pick the best line
to a place we’ve never been.
Riding pillion, you can be
Jean Shrimpton – should you dare trust
Italian suspension.
Your heart, like a shield, sewn on my sleeve.
(Though I will polish out all trace
of fingernails on paintwork.)
Here's the weekend. Are you ready
to go missing underground?
I’m not prepared to wait.
vi. 2023
