At eighteen she's anxious in her skin

tight-tongued and lacking laughter.

Walking along Roundhay Road

she bumps into her boyfriend.

He’s leaking testosterone

like an exhaust pipe dripping oil.

Cars jitter as the red light lingers.

Instinct revs through her blood -

one wrong word and her head

is speeding to a parked car bonnet.

Her bag splays open mouthed on the path.

Her cheek bone bounces

from the metal surface.

Trapped at amber

the junction bellows confusion.

Commuters avert their weary eyes.

At green she gathers her guts

from the pavement

and leaves him spluttering in her fumes.