His how long and your how long have you got depends not on how long you've been or on how many places you've seen, but on the microseconds you've counted in the midst of a dream and have they counted at all?

If that is truly the case then dreams must be the place where life is measured

I add up the subtractions which make the distractions of each day more bearable,
it's still one big carnival with plenty of clowns but no wild animals because now they're protected as we all should be.

And in saying 'no wild animals' I have excluded the audience who pretend to be civilised until the lights go down.

When on the Northern line travelling light and the weather is fine
one has a gay old time
( don't even go there)

It's Saturday and I'm away to meet family
a subdivision of ancestry but still humanity.

Nearly at Euston so better I put my skates on to rise on the escalator, a quick coffee to celebrate their arrival.

This poetry comes to you from me via several stations on the London tube network
I'd like to thank the interchange at the 'Bank'
and also the man who spilled coffee on my shoes.