it’s 5:56pm
a tin of sardines in suits
talking into earphones
a multitude of tongues and tones
words that journey across the city

the rails grate against my chosen soundtrack
the passing scenery flickers
and i find myself drifting
floating along
with words around me

imagining myself
traipsing across the sleepers
sleeping across the rails
scrawling graffiti on the walls

my head jerks up –

i wouldn’t do that, i couldn’t
words buzz around my skull
carefully placed against the window
the scenery turns to black