Getting to and from work is an event for us all, whether on foot, bike or car but sharing that journey with others in buses and trains and planes adds a different dimension to that part of the working day. commuter trains do bring their own special experiences.
The brash bloke in the carriage, loudly apologises with a snigger.
Excess baggage man, messily stuffing his face, taker, not a giver.
The women of a certain age, states she is still not yet a changer.
Hat man, where is Tonto? Does he think he is the Lone Ranger.
Bawdy earplug, phone boy, if it wasn’t music, it would be reefer.
Non-coupled, couple, looking at phones and pissing in the ether.
Drunken city gent, all red faced and sweaty, a born again seeper.
Black clad Emo, menacing, hungry, haunted, like the grim reaper.
Borderline recluse, stares blankly out of the window, solo dreamer.
Babe in arms, hot and flustered, was silent, but is now a screamer.
Conductor approaches, smell him before I see him, a real stinker.
Nervous young man, not happy in his skin, a compulsive blinker.
Paper reader, obvious needer, closing her eyes, is now sleeper.
My reflection in glass, intently watching all, oh no, I am peeper.
Image: Commuters under neon by Samuel Burton
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This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell, a British female voiceover professional.