The Undergrounders

Hello. Welcome aboard the metal worm that works its way
Through a series of ready-made burrows that lead
Us from A to B, to work, lunch, the Museum of Natural History;
To get a perm, shop, go to the theatre, the cinema, the pub,
Or maybe just the next stop. This is an organised hive
Of disorganised activity – hot breath, roving eyes, sways, sighs,
Starings at shoes, close space, mixed smells as we cruise
At high speed on which we thrive in the city - the metropolis -
That lies up there in the polluted air and down here: underground.
These are the tubes, the arteries and veins in the heart
That helps to keep London beating, and in these underground trains
We stop and start, move about, stand up, sit down, get
Crammed in or stretch out; people from all walks of life,
Walking at the same time here where we must stand and stare,
Or think, speak, dream – even read – as we’re going somewhere.