They are fed into the machine,
Grim-faced yet eager to be
Sorted, by row, by class.
A background hum…accompanied by
Shuffles, wheezing, cough!
Dry still and warm as a day baked car,
Air is short and breath still shorter
Bumbling aides busy in routine
Signs of conforming youth, elegance
Betrayed by tight white visible lines.
“Please listen”, pay careful attention,
the machine is committed to safety
are the backs of heads committed?
Or too focussed on white lines?
A smooth ride starts with a jolt.
As trouser legs cling gently to basted skin,
Begins the safe travel, and rows of minds,
Rows and rows of minds busy themselves,
Switch off, scan texts, Zeitungen and novels of cat’s piss
– keeping busy, busy, whilst
Trousers stick, ideas melt, occupied
minds keep busy.
by David Bugg (2009)