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Rush hour shower
(Andrew M)
The i pod chants unto the wearer
Sanctuary from an over bearer
A kindle can save you from a starer
In the rush hour shower.
Bumping hips and bloodless lips
White knuckled hands grasp business grips
Avoiding last nights revellers chips
In the rush hour shower.
The sardines keep on squeezing in
Your train has now become your tin
Bad breath becomes a mortal sin
In the rush hour shower.
Pickpockets mingle with their prey
With sleight of hand as bodies sway
Their happiness our disarray
In the rush hour shower.
Counting stations one by one
Wishing that your day was done
Depressed for it has just begun
In the rush hour shower.
The next stop thankfully is yours
You fight your way towards the doors
Sweating now from all your pores
In the rush hour shower.
The air gets cooler as you wait
Your chance to flee and escalate
Towards the skyward ticket gate
In the rush hour shower.
Your easing breath becomes less stressed
As oyster cards are firmly pressed
You gain release like all the rest
In the rush hour shower.
Then all at once you hit the street
The traffic fumes smell perfume sweet
Your feelgood factor is replete
Until we meet again at five.
*****
Andrew M is an antique dealer on the Kent coast, where he lives with his family and a Patterdale Terrier named Jack. He writes fiction and poetry.
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Angelika Rust 