Rhythm tapped out by the
flats of the wheels of the
train with its steel drum re-
frain, past allotments and
rubbish heaps, rubble and
people in trouble, past

ivyed embankments where
knotweed grips coke cans, di-
gests the degradables,
strangles the cables and
chews up elastic bands,
spits out the plastic bags

Marks from maintainers to
show where the strain is, the
trackside equipment with
coded description of
walls that need strengthening,
lines that want lengthening

Tags and graffiti that’s
sprayed on the cable run,
leaving the city for
days in the sun, we go
over the motorway,
boating and gloating on

Rivers with reeds not with
oil drums and weeds, past the
hillocks and golf courses,
paddocks and racehorses,
smart kids not urchins in
villages’ churches, the

Sky’s deeper bluer, the
houses are fewer and
further between them and
bigger and greener with
gardens not yards and with
fields for as far as you

See to the trees, and the
air’s smelling cleaner; change
here for another line,
change if you’ve changed your mind,
want to return to the
smoke and the burn of the

Urban oasis, the
vermin, the rat races.
Leafier places can’t
hold up a match to it,
capital captures it.
Trains out of London will
always come back to it.