Poem 9 | simonwilliams

Yes, I remember Aldershot –

the name, because one afternoon

of heat the Heathrow coach stopped there

unexpectedly. It was inopportune.

The door released, someone’s iPod hissed,

few left or came; it was a comfort stop.

In the bare bus station, what I saw

was a departure board with Aldershot on top

and nettles, shepherd’s purse, couch grass,

cow-parsley and some others with long stems.

A man with goggles and a petrol strimmer

was taking out the worst of them.

And for that minute a seagull squawked

close by and then, like some round trip,

further and further, all the gulls

from town centre, way out to the council tip.

First appeared on National Poetry Society website as Adlestrop competition merit, 2014