Tube Traveller (1)

All hot and sweaty
Packed like sardines
The time against you is heavy
As you race to the citidines

Herded into our mobile barns
We push shove and squeeze
Our bags rub against the finest yarns
Then we shower it with an eruptive sneeze

Not far now you say
The next stops are Bank and Moorgate
You hold on tight as tube sways
Knowing that you might now be late

It comes to a grinding halt
You crash into the finely adorned lady
Raising your hands ‘its not my fault’
It comes across as a little bit shady

She exits, more bodies come aboard
Its an endless of sea of creatures
In Paris its no better at Gare du Nord
Too many ways out is one of its redeeming features

Not to worry we continue to move
Bodies shift, sway this way and that
There’s never any time to lose
You remain standing just because the carriage is packed

You notice heads down in books
You may catch a wandering eye
You notice the odd indifferent looks
You notice the ones that avoid a smile

In their own little world
You imagine what they might think
You wander how their day will unfurl
What’s their connection to our existence-their link

The forecast for your arrival is nigh
Maybe a little faith will hold true
The possibility of being late is high
Maybe a little prayer will have to do?

So the journey continues without a mind
The city still needs to be fed
It will only reveal what you want to find
As you work while everyone is in bed…