The breathless rush of harried commuters.
Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.
The crackle of announcements.
Tourists, eyes wide, decipher the boards,
Try to make sense of places they can’t quite pronounce,
The remnants of a hundred invading forces, a piecemeal language left behind.
They struggle to navigate the tide of sheer humanity,
Of bodies sweeping along the concourse.
Billboards scream for attention:
Sale! Show! Buy! Buy! Buy!
Possesions make us, right?
Businesswoman in a powersuit,
Blackberry glued to hand,
Little old lady, scarf genteely knotted,
Waits under the clock, lost in the throng.
Until the childish cry of “Grandma!” re-animates her,
And like a music box ballerina whose key has been turned, she stirs.
She rushes towards the little boys,
And is lost in a tangle of giggles and kisses.
Tannoy switches, bing bong bong,
Platforms alter and the crowd surges once more.
Through the barrier,
Onto the train.
Leave the city again.