I'd Try My Best At Sleeping Poem by Mark Heathcote

Carsick, I'd squirm like a worm
in Daddy's car, but I daren't be sick.

I daren't speak truth-be-told. So I'd squirm
squirm like a worm, mouthful of aspic.

I'd gaze out the window at the stars —
try to forget I was the one moving.

Nausea returns a smell of cigars.
Petrol fumes, I'd try my best at sleeping.

But I'd end up heaving and praying
journeys end, I wouldn't upset the boss.

Sure, I got used to the buffeting
less I got a backhand of semi-gloss.