The lights flicker as the tube gets near.
The man in the corner finishes his beer,
And as I get off he opens another,
And complains out loud that "It can't be much fu'ther".
The worrying thing is he has a case and a suit,
But for a rich city banker he is anything but mute.
There surely must be a sad story of types,
Behind the drunken man in the tailored pin-stripes.
A story of loss, or a tale of suffering,
Perhaps may account for his out loud mutterings.
Sad as it is, I don't get to ask,
As when all this occurs the train whizzes past.
Off into the tunnel as my eyes blink.
So long, farewell, to the man with the drink.
- Jack Green, 1/12/10
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