Underground Poem by Mark E Webster

Underground

Rating: 5.0


Underground

We sit cheek by jowl in our anxious isolation
Tubing through the worm holes
Of our capital's foundations
Nervously appraising the gazing
Of our fellow train commuters
Engaging with the gaming
On our smart phone computers
Body heat, fetid odours, unseasonal humidity
Exciting the cheap scents and rear-end soiled upholstery
Screeching, rumbling, whining, the clickety clack
Vacuum pumps, hydraulic sumps, shunting thumps on warping track
We near our destination
But the networks' hesitation
Brings a wave of fresh vexation
As we face the expectation
Of being late again
Then conflicting the resentment
Is the sickly stark announcement
That a passenger is underneath the train
And so we slow
To even out the flow
Waiting for the signal
That tells us when to go
In our imagination
We're standing at the station
In dread anticipation
Of the pain
But before we get to impact
We're delighted by the mere fact
That this locomotive
Is on its way again
Then it's mind the gap
Stand back
And allow the other passengers off the train

Sunday, September 21, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Travel
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