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The Bombay Train Song

 He hangs on dangling handholds
As the train sways and careens
Endless nondescript buildings unfold
Their secrets as the tired warrior returns.
The day is over the night falls Thickly through the barricaded windows The man’s sleepy head lolls On his shoulder in a dream disturbed.
The days are a hard white collar brawl The sleepless night stretches ahead There’s no space for a fly to crawl The morning paper is still unread.
You who sleep standing Don’t drool on his shirt It will cost him a lot of spending If you pour on him all your dirt.
Plastic bags, umbrellas, Tiffin The rack is full and the seats overflow What is that smell Peter Griffin? Is it the Sewri sewers overflowing? Beware of pickers of pockets Who surround and slash with knife Careful of your arm’s sockets Lest they dislocate and misery make life.
Welcome to Bombay’s bustling trains Hold on fast as if you are insane!

Poem by John Matthew
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