Illustration by Robin Renard
We were playing QPR. We went to Selhurst Park.
‘Hey driver!’ we shouted. ‘Duz tha know
Where tha guin?’ He sang Carpenters songs
In a karaoke sludge drone as he tore up
The A to Z and took us down the blind alley
That he hoped would lead to the right place.
I often think about us, small town folks
Adrift in the big city, faces pressed to the windows
Of the bus like stamps on clear envelopes
As the game carried on elsewhere, like the game
Always seems to, and seemed to and will seem to.
We pulled up at the wrong ground. ‘I think
Your match is off, folks’ he said. ‘No lights on’
He started singing Carpenters again. We’re
Football fans, mate; as far as being lost goes
We’ve only just begun.