Suburban Perturbia

 or

Going off the rails

It's early on Monday they start to arrive
At Carshalton Beeches in Fa(i)rest Zone Five;
Then Wallington, Waddon and on to West Croydon,
It's easy to see why a few are annoyed on
Account of the people, all squashing and squeezing,
With standing room only, all coughing and sneezing.
The general rule for this bleary-eyed crowd
Is to gaze at an i-phone (no talking's allowed);
For this is the race of the daily commuters,
All destined to labour in front of computers;
Consigned to submit to a trial by rail,
With constant delays and the   s p  e  e  d  of   a     s   n   a   i     l.
Mid sleeping and waking, they yawn at the blurbs
Of stations that service these southern suburbs;
At last they limp past little Battersea Park
And imagine the sound of a meow or a bark;
Is a dog's life in London so very much worse
Than the barking commuter's, in doggerel verse?

Envoi

With terminal madness, collective euphoria,
They charge through the barriers at London Victoria.

© PB 26 April 2017