Shooting sardines

The underground experience
which has become
my marriage of convenience
in that
every single day I’m beat
can’t get a seat
and
them young un’s with their bursting lungs still
full of a tomorrow
look at me with laughter in their eyes
albeit also with a modicum of sorrow,
the little shits
I hope their Nike backpacks fall to bits
and Adidas can kiss my ass
there’s murder sometimes on my mind.

It’s okay
I’m only wed an hour a day
although if London Transport had
their way
it’d be for a whole lot more.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.