Tube Robots

The corrugated clang and creak of the escalator Welcomes murmurs of lovers entwined in conversation The lilted quick chatter of tourists Interrupted by those racing- no regard for bags, or backpacks or babies. Mechanically they step on and off Fever is in their eyes To get on, sit somewhere, go some place Sometimes they push, like children in the playground On the platform my plait snaps in the air Wind lifts and tugs tendrils, teasing The madness of monotony Rattles insistently Like the great beast on the tracks Hurtling towards me