Poetry: Drive Through

April 26, 2018 1 min read

Poetry: Drive Through

April 26, 2018 1 min read


I recently became friends with the drive through

The sweet anonymity of the thing I crave, passed through the small translucent square


No need for self consciousness, for hunched shoulders and crossed arms

Your face is barely recognised at each window

The ease of the contactless card

Feeding my demons in one foul swipe


I pretend to mull over my choice

Act like it’s for two

Because who are they to know

That when I go home

I eat it all to myself



But maybe I can’t quite wait that long

I steal a mouthful or two under red lights

Why would food be made this easy if not to be devoured?


Food to go, made fast for the masses

Avoiding the pretence of the supermarket shelves

Adding the mundane to my wired basket so as to disguise

What I’m really there to buy


I recently became friends with the drive through

And like a true friend, it doesn’t judge

It’s just there, when I need it

A bad influence, maybe

The devil on my shoulder


I recently became friends with the drive through

But like some friends

It will only let me down, in the end.


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About Me

Hi! I'm Sophie.

Writer, thinker, often overwhelmed.I like to talk about film, feelings and feminism. Not necessarily in that order.

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  • Cancelling your hair appointment and using the money to buy a new lens instead = solid life decision.
  • Here’s my cute chubby face to tell you a couple of things: 1️⃣ I had the best weekend with @kimhigson being the most me I have ever been, watching some incredible live netball and finally seeing Avengers: Endgame (still processing), and 2️⃣ My photos from my dreamy trip to Sweden are all edited and live on my photo account @sophslens_, or you can swipe to see a few. Thanks @mathew_curran for snapping this one ☺️📸
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  • Gripping, poetic, and consistently lightbulb-inducing as it explores a world where women rise to power, I couldn’t get enough of this book. I haven’t read fiction in years, but this reminded me that I ought to, much more often.
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  • I’ve been spending a lot of time here, because anywhere else feels a bit too scary at the moment. Who’d have thought that throwing your old life into the fire, and letting it burn up to create a new one, would have such lasting hurdles? Its a strange feeling to know that you wouldn’t want to go back, but sometimes wish that you could. I’m done with the pressure and the comparison of trying to replace what I’ve let go of. Solitude, it turns out, is the best thing for now. And this room, with its comfy bed and grey walls and light in all the right places, isn’t such a bad place to find it.

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