Cheltenham: CHS Facade edition with preface

#1674
I leaned on my dashboard hands,
propped myself up for the surge,
sparked as I plugged away, Vulcan
at a soot-scummy forge, beneath me
Venus thinking of grey pigmentation,
behind the wheel the music blared, I
went through the light into the wash,
but came out more dirty than I was
when I entered: smudged coal, rubber.
Were we covered? The Venusian you
were could only jealously repeat what
you’d already said. More work for Vulcan.
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