carijillo

I was exhausted

having driven just under

a thousand miles

in a day & a half

had stopped in a Repsol

somewhere deep in Spain

had found the lower car park

away from the road

the dash & a splash car park

had wedged in between a cement truck

& a long distance haulier

sleep came fitfully

thinking of sun

& meeting you somewhere

at an airport close to the sea

waking at six

walking to the Repsol café

the long distance trucker just ahead

taking a piss

washing my hands gurning

at my white face in the dead mirror

went in for a coffee

as the trucker signalled a cake

from the pile on the counter

& in a weary gravel voice said

Carajillo

she brought over his coffee

& the Osbornes 103 brandy

Dos he said

& she poured a good measure in

he ate his cake

downed his Carajillo

& left

the last I saw of him

was his wide greasy grey arse

as he climbed into his truck

& then I felt the rest of my journey

was as good as done

life was going to be great

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