the train pulls into the station;
it becomes unnerved.
rolling slowly towards the speckled onlookers
that crowd the platform's edge.
the weight of its seven carriages
feels heavy on iron shoulders today.
reluctantly, it comes to a silent halt and waits.
exposed in the sun
i am
far from safe tunnels
i am
every inch of wood and metal
there for you to see, to touch, to walk around inside...
shudder as fourteen metal bolts turn
and your fourteen little wooden doors swing open
letting the last lot flood out of you like maggots,
leaving only their filth behind.
more moist, wetfaces clamber forward
with their breathers working overtime:
choking, coughing, sneezing, seething...
their loud stomping feet
and brazen, apelike tube-sounds
confuse and shake you.
all is a sweating, fleshy morass.
you must pack inside you as many as you can
meat-jellys in fibrous suits and suchlike;
cuddle them all the way to the next stop, okay?
and so on and so on until the end of the line...
or the end of time.
