The tug, the pull
the noise, the lull.
The short delays in the journey which we should overlook,
but should also mind the gap where we don’t care to look.
The faces blurring, some rudely staring.
That half an inch of space that demands
to be occupied by an unruly fanny.
Or the irreverent nudge
of a stud boy danny.
Scaling treetops and rooftops,
a birds’ eye view of car-infested roads,
to the subterranean depths of underground darkness,
the ride on the metro is a high and a low.