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Composed on the street of showrooms – Sticker Lane, Bradford.

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Stuck on Sticker Lane once more,

The blacktop dug up still.

We wait our turn to snake

Through cones and cross that

Dirty, streaked white line.

Stuck on Sticker Lane we sit,

Beside tidy shiny ranks of polished chrome,

Bright paint, buffed wheels.

The promise of the 

Carefree open road.

Stuck on Sticker Lane we crawl,

Our turn to snake the cones.

Free, finally, we gather speed,

Leave the newbies

Neatly lined and stuck on Sticker Lane.

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