It wasn't me
In carriage eight 0 nine three,
but
do you care
that I wasn't there?

Sardine time on
the underground line.

Cross town rail
Fail!

It's all in the view
and what you
can see,
if I can see you
does that mean you
can see me?

A struggle to huddle in corners and hide on this jumpy track journey.

I wish carriages were made a bit wider.

And it's krap on a Saturday or any day to travel anyway on this torturous route.

It will pass, things do
and I'll muddle on through to
get there in the end.

In the meanwhile and padding the passing of time with
outlandish quality
wondering
always, if I can see you
does that mean
you can see me?