Sunday, 13 April 2014

London Bridge Station, Midnight

Rattling and shaking
Hurrying closer
You whip round to see
A man, with skinny
Brown arms, astride
A drum, in pseudo
Tribal gear
All decked out
With metal rings
Jingling and jangling
Your fragile nerves
Running down
The steps behind you
Shirtless and careless
Or maybe just carefree
He smiles at you
And laughs at the
Fear and surprise
On your face
Which are always there
You hate him for it
But you smile back
And pretend it's ok

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