|Posted by jrcrowther on June 4, 2013 at 12:55 AM|
I have a thing about travelling on the underground. I lived in Vienna and travelled to work most days via the UBahn (as it is known in Austria). I wrote this as a tribute and I hope you also can look at my various poems on the pages of my Web site on the same theme.
In the twinkle of a second I have summed up the grotesque bastard opposite me in the U Bahn. A hag with a brown-green stained piece of tissue that she blows into every ten seconds. Her red nose gobbed with green slime, her eyes shot with blood, an illness so far undefined, but fatal to me- psychological-ly. She obviously has bubonic plague. She is the disease-ridden symbol of all the disease-ridden that ride here. I close my eyes to try and shut out her misery of throat seizing gulps of thickened mucus. Of course I should feel sympathy for another human creature, should empathise but, damn me, what the hell is she doing here infecting us all, transmitting her all. She should be picked up by the U Bahn sterilising police unit and burned at the next stop. What do you mean they do not exist? I can see one now coming down the train monitoring. He has the woman in his machine sights, she has no chance, burn bitch burn.
Well blow me sideways and up the nearest sewage down pipe if I am not on the U Bahn and for the hundredth time the only one sitting opposite me is an elephantine woman eating a mountain burger complete with lethal amounts of onion and relish laced with garlic. Not only that, but she has to lean forward such is her girthlyness in the tight seat. Despite leaning back as far as I can, I am no more than 10 centimetres from her foul mouth as she slobber-licks at the side face of her Eiger berger, nose quivering above brown teeth. Is she totally devoid of any sensitivity to what she does? This time I have had enough. I stand up and hopefully discretely hammer my briefcase into her face The 12,000 thousand thousand calorie object of her frenzied feeding frenzy disappears in one enormous gulp. She smiles now, contentment indeed. I am defeated, I cannot dent her. Oh for a gun or a chainsaw.