the road howls in its hard macadamised pain
as heavy traffic presses it back into the ground below
but the greater hurt
is the cheap whores' high heels
digging into the heat-soft surface
a road can only go so far
nancy straightens her stockings
tops showing beneath her pelmet skirt
the heat
her sweat showing through her blouse
her areola's showing through her sweat-damp blouse
no bra
no support
no money unless some
dirty sex-deprived bank manager
asks for depraved sex in a back alley
her back alley
if she can manage it
for money she will suck and blow
for money she will bend over
for money she will give you
the best knee-trembler you've ever had
she's an artist a professional
she takes pride in her work
for money she will manage it
but only for lust not love
a girl can only go so far
and will never kiss
and I sit alone in my lonely stinking room
damp wallpaper hanging from the wall
staring out of dirt-grimed windows
hating the Dirty Old Town
i’m stuck in
hating mccoll for writing it
hating the road i’m on
hating nancy
hating myself
hating salford
-----
they’ve cleaned it up now
building sites and half-demolished buildings
new roads
new houses – little boxes
all made of ticky-tacky
and all looking just the same
no smoke in the sky
just petrol fumes
and acid rain
and mcdonalds cartons everywhere
and vomit drying on pavements
from last night’s beer and curry binge
nancy has moved on now
she got pregnant
and her daughter now walks the same streets
and takes her punters to cheap motels
where they drink cheap wine
and have oral
and anal
but salford
salford remains
the remains of salford
and the sirens
of the police cars
the ambulances
the fire-engines
scream through the buildings
telling everyone that the world carries on
living
and dying
and burning
the road howls
and salford screams
Iain Mackay
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/salford-blues/
