"Opposites"

The delights of the non-rush hour train

Working Saturdays

Has it’s compensations.

Like the drop dead gorgeous

Boy opposite.

Blond bleached hair

I’m no fashionista

Don’t know what you call it

Trimmed designer stubble

Way out of my league-

Even if I could knock off

A quarter century from my age.

Thankfully I’ve got my notebook

So am snatching glances

Rather than staring

Into his eyes

Which are hidden

Behind his shades.

His headphones in

So he can’t hear my thoughts.

His legs are crossed

So I can’t see

What I’m imagining

Bag acting as his table

As his half  gloved fingers

Tippity tap away

At his youthful

Computer phone device.

I know where I really want to be

As-even at my age-

I’m getting a funny feeling down below.

You glance over the carriage

Absent mindedly

Those lips turn upwards

From one of the corners

Into that cute half grin.

I like to think it’s because

You’re telepathic

And can read my thoughts

But in reality

You’ve just got a high score

On your computer game

And haven’t noticed me

....Never will.

I hate young men like you

Said without any malice

For it just makes me

Look back at myself

And realise…

How I’ve wasted my life.

But enough of that

Don’t spoil the moment

Fucking hell…

He just yawned!

Ooh…open wide!

I wish I had the balls…

To get my…camera out

So I could always

Have your image

In my memory bank

Instead of fading

When I next wank.

Wherever you’re going

Thank you for getting on my train

Even though I got on after you.

Shit! Here’s my stop!

One last peek

Through the window

Of a London Overground train

Standing on the platform

Of Surrey Quays Station

With you totally oblivious to the fact

You are what my dreams are made of.

Dulwich Poet 6^th April 2013

(My usual train journey to work, they are not packed on Saturdays, when I sat down there was a beautiful young man sat opposite…)