Few would argue
that what we go through on
a day to day basis to earn a crust is just short of
scandalous and as near to ridiculous
as makes no difference.
I’m one if the few are few who’d say to you,
‘stop whining and start grinning’
It’s Thursday and no one can take that away
tomorrow the weekend begins,
more grins and wins
so what’s there to lose?
In this tin can shuttle heading towards the end
where the West bends me around its little finger,
my eyes stop a while to linger on the lass with a face
that appears to have mixed into the glass of her Galaxy,
and I don’t mean a chocolate bar,
far from it
hair tied back and hands go clickety, there’s a knack to it, the keyboard on
the mobile keeps a track of it
I get lost in the rhythm.
if I could I’d change into a barfly and have a drink of beer,
sleepy man looks like he’s had a few, more than a can or two,
I’m stone cold and sober.
Headphones barges past
as if this stop is the last he’ll ever make
Mister take your time
this is just the Central line
there’s several more to choose
© 2017, John Smallshaw.