Saturday, 15 December 2007

The Commute

25 years of there and back,
15 more to go.
All those journeys of clickety clack,
Do I mind? Well, no.

Everyone keeps themselves to themselves,
For which I'm bloody chuffed.
I don't want fuckers attempting to delve
Into my personal stuff.

We all avoid all eye contact,
We're not on nodding terms.
The only things we share, in fact,
Are various nasty germs.

There's no First Class, no trolley snacks,
It's first to get on, first to sit.
With carriages full from front to back,
You wait until work for a shit.


Flaming Nora said...

Great stuff :-)

Would you like to see my own take of commuting in London, in poetic form, of course?

If so, 'tis 'ere:

Geoff said...

I've got another commuting one I'm working on. Such a rich source!

I like your poem and your blog, Glenda. I've linked to you over at my main blog, (Contains Mild Peril).

Flaming Nora said...

Geoff, I've just tagged yer. Don't be scared: