The day in
the year after
the fall of the
Soviet Empire
I shared a cabin
on the ferry
to the Hoek
of Holland with
a lorry driver
from Wolverhampton.
He & twenty
others were
taking super-
annuated trucks
to Russia but
other than that
he had no idea
where they were
heading. The gaffer
was in control &
anyway it was
an adventure
good money & all
the driver said
smoking a Golden
Holborn in the upper
bunk before
going to sleep.
I can still hear
him softly snoring
through the night,
see him at dawn
climb down the
ladder: big gut
black underpants,
put on his sweat-
shirt, baseball
hat, get into
jeans & trainers,
zip up his
plastic holdall,
rub his stubbled
face with both his
hands ready
for the journey.
I’ll have a
wash in Russia
he said. I
wished him the
best of British. He
replied been good
to meet you Max.
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