Abandoned Cars

In summer, we played in the abandoned cars,
slid down the windscreen, hot roof to bonnet,
sat in and drove to wherever we wanted,
the backs of our legs sticking to the seats.
Oh, we were wild and free.
Between breakfast and dinner, no grown ups.
Between dinner and supper the same.
When time came for us to eat,
mothers threw up sash windows
and hollered their children's names,
which were passed along passageways to find us.
After supper, it was back out until it was dark,
and then scolding for being back late,
a quick wash of hands and face
and into bed. Windows open to the city night.

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