This is a met line train to..

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just found this while perusing an old notepad. Extremely rough first draft

Submitted: September 16, 2015

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Submitted: September 16, 2015

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This is a metropolitan line train to nowhere,
 the next station is unknown,
 I sit watching a man in green combats give a speech,
 he’s speaking in tongues, Aramaic, perhaps,
 dancing ’round the carriage he drops gold in our laps,
 with black leather loafers he plods up, and down

Then,
 above his head, he brandishes a clock,
 this clock has no hands, nor numbers, nor lines,
 I suppose this clock has no face,
 but then neither do I

By Dante Pomells


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