The Parking Meter Poetry Scheme

by Brian Bilston

After an unexpected outbreak of enlightenment

or a heavy pre-bank holiday liquid lunch,

the council adjusted all the parking meters

to dispense poems instead of tickets.

A notice was put up stating that the poems

were to be used in the traditional manner,

and not considered valid unless placed on the dashboard

with all stanzas visible outside the vehicle.

The poems would vary by length of stay.

A haiku was deemed sufficient for a quick trip

to pick up your click-and-collect. For overnight parking,

the Epic of Gilgamesh might billow forth.

Traffic wardens enforced the new regulations.

On-the-spot fines in the form of additional reading

or creative writing classes were meted out

to those who had outstayed their villanelle.

Drivers were not expected to learn their poem by heart

but at least be familiar with its underlying themes

and motifs, and be able to argue convincingly

concerning the writer’s intentions and choice of form.

Once drivers had overcome their initial scepticism,

particularly with regard to the Horatian ode,

the scheme proved to be a spectacular success.

Too much so, as it turned out. Congestion rose

as motorists travelled vast distances to use the meters.

Certain poems became much sought after, and fights

would break out over a rare Heaney or Plath.

A group of drivers formed their own poetry group

and tried to park their cars using their own work.

The council had a rethink. The poetry got ditched

and a new permit scheme was ushered in: no parking

between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. without a valid root vegetable.

From Days Like These, London: Picador, 2022, pages 283–284.