Arrival

Glistening teardrops run down

The frosted window of a packed train carriage.

Two more hours of standing, stagnant 

Under the stench of the old man’s armpit.

The shifty girl leans.

She grips, white knuckled,

On to her cargo load. Like me,

She must be going home for the holidays.

I see the burgeoning sunrise

Of Christmas morning, peppered with blissful pretence.

My stop. She has to move,

And she smiles.

The smile of the inconvenienced.

I brush past, and try to match it.

What a joy the holiday season is, eh?

We adorn our harlequin masks,

Smiling through blood.

My next train comes in.

Packed like sardines. Fuck.

The armoured high vis woman,

Guarding the gates.

You won’t get all that on here.

Yet I do.

A hunk of metal, overfilled,

Drifting in the frostbitten sea

Hungrily frothing at the mouth.

We rock, to and fro.

I step off the train

With my matted purple case,

And my sinuses wretch

From the stench of cow shit.

The sprawling fields behind the industrial estate

Are dappled with frost, piercing

The concrete obtrusion with sunlight

Sparkle.