By Richard Mather
It’s weekend and carriage D
of the 15:09 is chock full of lurid laughter.
“She was gagging for it, I’m telling yer.”
Pigs, pricks, sluts and sadists,
each one a fucking wanker.
We are pinned against the air,
Suspended
Above nothing.
And the train projects its tracks
Over the wide gulf.
It’s a mystery how it’s done.
I cannot explain how wheels spin
Through air, how tonnes of stuff
Can move over nothing.
It’s as if the world
Really is solid after all.
Comments