The foolish say to themselves "there must be a seat."
Yet in vain do they seek for one.
Restlessly do they wander the carriages and vestibules,
Ignoring those standing already, as if they think it's by choice
Onwards they press, from end to end,
As if the front carriage will miraculously be empty.
Yet, so they shall not have to come back looking silly,
They end up spending the journey in the bike section.
Others look around for seats they may grab at stations
But nobody gets off,
not even one.
As for me, I shall stand here in peace
My heart quietened within me
I shall remain leaning on this luggage rack
my Smartphone and Thermos beside me
all the minutes of my journey,
until I reach my final destination
where this train terminates.
Glory be the the driver, and to the guard, and to the Ticket Collector who dare not enter this crowded carriage. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.
ReplyDeleteAmen.
I will await the ticket collector with baited breath,
ReplyDeleteMy season is overdue, and I travel by Oyster,
My shell is expired and my renewal is too expensive,
I will trust in the Luck of the Worthy, who pervade this carriage,
I will closet myself in the toilet and feign illness,
so that the Smell drives the ticket collector to other,
more unworthy of I of a penalty ticket,
I will share empathy with them,
and console them in their painful recollection,
and honour their penalty ticket for saving me.