Toll booth attendant

It might look
like the worst job
on earth
sitting in a booth
on a motorway
collecting money
so a car
can go over
a bridge
but the snatches
of music
you would hear
as the windows
roll down
and back up –
driving song,
a sonata,
a hit played
on Radio 2
caught in
or suddenly
you have never
heard before
so beautiful
that your soul
begins to lift
then it’s gone
foot down
crossing the river

from There Will Be No More Nonsense (Picador, 2014), ? Lorraine Mariner, 2014, used by permission of the author and the publisher

Lorraine Mariner in the Poetry Store

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