Speed

She rattles on at him with a speed

Of speech that is – frankly –

Admirable. She speaks

Emphatically, passionately

With colour, metre, musicality.

But her audience is in another world –

Candy crush, or similar, a device

Is stealing him away. It has chosen

Him, and them, us all, really.

We don’t see each others eyes anymore.

She will not be fazed.

She will not let him be taken,

The gossip gets more ridiculous,

More dramatic, every stop is pulled,

Every detail embellished to high

Heaven. Higher. Anything more?

The screeching of iron on iron,

The tube and the rails are wrestling,

She and the sound are roaring but

No. He won’t move. He has gone.

Exhausted, her last punt at

Affection, intimacy, connection

Is the only thing they have left.

She is, of course, allowed to touch him.

And with the story, stories, prattle

All spent, she collapses her head

Onto his shoulder. The train shunts

Into a platform, panting for breath,

Fuel, a moment. And to the world

It seems – such a sweet couple.