(20 minute poetry)

Part of the underground underground
do not confuse this with the overland overground it's not quite the same,

fir trees don't grow down here in the dark,
the carriages are light enough
packed tight enough
trolleys and cases right enough
but it's different up top
there's a buzz
usually from the saw mills at three mills and not forgetting the rolling hills which are in my opinion much better than rolling stock,
better than being cooped up in a cattle truck although to be fair
cattle get more air to breathe
can you believe that?

In just sitting here and writing I see from the corner of my weak eye a young woman biting her nails
I guess if all else fails and you're a vampire,
higher, I want to say
but I don't and pay attention to the writing again.
another thing that's not quite the same

I realise that everything's copied even imagination
and that brings me into the new Stratford station
home again
home again
we all want a home again
a regular place
a loving face
to welcome us in.