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Another poem from the Passengers project.  This is in honour of this very special day, the first working day of the year after the clocks change, so commuters are hit by night falling early – probably when we’re still in the office.

Animal Calls

Pencil-thin moustache,
grey jockey hat
mustard-leather bag
eating a home-made
ham sandwich
mucus –filled nose,
black-leather jacket,
corduroy trousers,
brown leather shoes,
reading Metro newspaper,
a rumbling cough;

as if in answer
a cough stutters
from the next carriage.

Outside the window,
the sun still not risen.



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