Monday morning
Bleary sardined
Book close to my chest
Not just because of the crush
In the get to work crush
Though that’s necessity too
Fact is I’d be mortified
If you clocked me reading
Poetry on the train!
I can see you now
Inching away
Nano-millimetre
Baby pigeon step at a time
Rumbled in my heinous crime
As you judge me insane.
I’d blag it Sarf Lunnon style
Give you my hardest Paddington
Rather than an…
I’m better than you smile
More likely I’d do nowt
Too scared for my thoughts to get out
I’d want to write about
Your reaction
To prove I’m not crazy
So come on back
I want a retraction!
Instead I just write in my head
Desperate to save my thoughts
Before forgotten and dead.
Willing the train to my station
To jot down key words
‘For the Nation’.
(I jest..they’re for my titillation)
Minimum of fuss
Sat on the bus
The seat next to me
Now as vacant
As the thoughts in my head.
Which is why you’re reading this
No more.
Dulwich Poet 5th August 2013
( I sometimes read poetry on the packed train into work, I unconsciously, but I suppose deliberately, try to ‘hide’ the book, as only ‘weirdos’ read poetry. I hate it when something I read or see ‘inspires’ me to write a poem, but I can’t do so at that moment, and try to hold those thoughts. I suppose that’s what this poem is about.)
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