Always In A Hurry

Metro car by Tom Edwards

Always in a Hurry

Skipping through the metro’s doors
As they hiss to close,
A deep gulp of the body heated air,
A slight tang on the tongue
Of some rushed rambler,
And like a scented candle when it’s lit,
The crust held in the shirtpits starts to melt,
Diffusion of the fragrance through the air,
My beaded brow is drawing wary looks,
Some try to shuffle further down the car,
Paranoia, are those more hushed whispers?
I’m bathing in the shame of misplaced guilt,
A racing heart pumps worry filled with blood,
Who’s the author of this foul aroma,
That prickles at my throat with every breath?
A cloud that outflanks olfactory fatigue,
Trundling on the tracks, we share our fate,
3 more stops to go…

Tom Edwards