Force seven

She’s talking of millions and the rest of us
are sat listening,
stories we hear when here on the tube,
her jeans are torn and her fingernails dirty,
but didn’t she get shirty when I gave her that look
and that look’s the look that says
I don’t believe you,

But it’s none of my business what her
business is and nothing to do with me.

A wee chap with a kilt on and I neatly tilt on
my axis,
something I didn’t want to see.

It’s a bit to familiar or similar to a
journey I took late last week.

Homeward bound and this hound dog purrs
the wee chappie swears at someone

a bit like last week so I won’t harp on it
continue to look sharp and sit
minding my own.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.