Poem #2,751 | Compression of

Compression of carriage-
set people – our shiftings
between stations a short
shuffle or clamber – trip-
hazards a-bound – this is
intimacy & exchanges of
elbowed contact – We sit
travel-facing or backs to
destination without eye
contact intended – Hints
of stuff eaten [& stinking
afters] mix with perfume
& deodorants – We burst
from slid doors as puss –
to mis-step our strides &
be re-funnelled as herds
through stubborn gates
[eyed by a high-vis man]
& down to those tunnels