The guy across the aisle is drunk and nearly spliced.
Engaged in spreading happiness around our train,
he understands the value of an adjectival fuck or two.
Sadly, his rendering of Country Roads, Take Me Home
brings an earnest female guard to remonstrate.
His a capella charm breaks no ground with her,
nor yet the phone call to his girl who’s coming to his aid.
The train deccelerates, points slur the wheels’ straight hiss,
his end’s in sight. He does not see or care what fate this seems
to usher him. His full steam bonhomie may not
fit him best man for the journey, but now we know him
for our long lost friend, we plead he will unpledge
the generous blessing confettied on the “jobsworth” guard.
The journey we have briefly shared draws in to town
and stops. The girl he’s summoned to his early wedding
feast is nowhere to be seen. Only the majesty
of Five Transport Police have come to welcome him.
He platformed stands, ignored and under guard. It’s sad.