ALARMED: 

The commuters stand closer than they should today. Every space I find
they follow, congregate around me in perfumed clusters chocolate 
coated. At Liverpool street station there’s alarms & a voice, almost 
human,talking down a tube at us. It sounds important, like we’re meant 
to evacuate. Everybody mills around, ignoring the indecipherable song
he sings. Though the place is alarmingly empty & those of us left 
are pin pricks bumping around on the marble canvas of the concourse, 
lights in our eyes & the aroma of deadskindust rising up from holes 
into the earth, leading us down into the Underground.

(K)