The Best of Both Worlds
After Middlefield by Ian Waites

Stick the car around the back. Silent greens, daisies growing heads now the football has stopped. Originally the absence of corners was so we did or did not need to put our foot down. Whichever means there is no need to stop. I don’t drive. Can’t say I really understand the way the pedals differ. Smooth curves of computer-game track. By the age of one, an average child can say vroom and rev its little heartfelt engine. I’ll stay here for the bike lanes. Hours of sunlight. Dubious corridors of since- knocked-down blocks of flats. You think an idyll is a safe space? Tucked away in your hidey-hole traffic jam, radio on, swearing at the neighbours, the government, spreading around any old cliche, whatever you’ve got. It’s nobody’s fault, this architecture, we tried to design it, but everything we try to tame tends resolutely to where it was not.