19 April 2012
A crowded stop, it's raining hard,
A noisy bus, an oyster card.
A busy train, a standing start,
A broken signal breaks your heart.
A place for bags taken up by bikes,
A rude conductor nobody likes.
A muffled tannoy, almost home,
A shouting man on his mobile phone.
Bumping elbows, frowning men,
Angry drunks in first class again.
Bags on racks, lap tops in the aisle,
Not one of the faces can raise a smile.
A lurching shudder, I disembark
And wander home, alone in the dark.
Crowded trains are lonely spaces
Lost in a sea of miserable faces.
A London Commuter • Opuss № I