Friday 9th December

161209

TOO MUCH SPACE IN THE CITY. WHAT’S WRONG?:

Sleeping Beauty’s riding trains,
In a necklace of fake diamonds,
Concealing her appeal in an old jumper,
The colour of pale Summer,
Nobody looks,

Messages are written,
On Pink paper
In Biro,
By girls who press their faces into corners,
Hold their heads in hands,
Shaking,
Whispering names,
Incantations,
Singing alone in crowds,
With low voices,
Like voodoo queens,

Singing in Russian,
Writing in English,
Pressing up against windows,
For something flat & hard,

Men glance,
Through stubbled faces,
Distracted,
Play,
Electric games,
With nimble thumbs,
Busy-busy,
On-the-go,
Numbing the pain,

“Never, never, never been”
Says a chocolate voice,
Obscured by a crowd,
Too many mouths,
Breathing too little air,

White wires,
Black wires,
Red & Black wires,
Everybody breathing each other’s breath,
Intimately pressed,
Against each other’s body,

Morning soap,
Warm perfume,
Tiny clicks of rhythms,
Buried in ears,
Curves,
Too close for comfort,
Evoking memories,

Squeeze in
Squeeze out,
Rip the headphones off a stranger,
Rushing to get somewhere,
Deadline,
Lifeline,
Do your make-up on trains,
Swathed in fake diamonds,
Eye-liner perfect,

The Piccadilly Line is a dog,
I’m going back to the Victoria Line,
She loves me better.

(K)

6 thoughts on “Friday 9th December

  1. A far distant memory for me, thank goodness
    Summer of course brought out all the interesting odours
    in all their glory
    People passing out with the heat
    Why do we accept this?

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