It was a scorcher today.
We ate ice-lollies in the office
and called it quits at five
only to find
the District Line had melted.
It really is too hot for any more words about this very warm day in London. Some say it has been the hottest day of the year. The weather forecast suggests there may be another day or two of similar intensity.
A couple of years ago I happened to write another poem about a warm summer’s Wednesday and being confined to an office.
And along with the District Line melting, my internet connection has been on a go-slow while preparing and uploading this post. Perhaps the heat has jammed its way into all the day’s component parts.
A number of poems have come to me during London commutes. “Every morning because it’s wonderful to watch” originated on the platform at East Finchley station. When I find myself waiting for a train to arrive, I still sometimes think about the poem between the tracks.
The sweaty gym clothes
yelled in the tog bag,
m8t$er f%$*er could the day get any worse?
But in the Zara and Topshop bags,
short summer dresses from the
50% off rack just giggled at the hope of seeing sun.
The backpack lugging the laptop
for an evening of more work simply sighed. Weary
would carry them home.
It’s a little uncanny that my current writing and the archive posts are showing parallel topics. Last week the new poem inspired by music echoed the archive poem written during a jazz concert (six years ago!). This week, quite by coincidence, it’s work generated on London’s Underground. From this time last year, the archive yields another tube poem. “On the Way to Westminster” is one of my favourite creations. On exiting at Leicester Square, I often wonder if today will be the day I might meet the killer whale.
The man with the notebook
The woman alongside hum
drops her Evening Standard
Left-handed he is
writing with a ballpoint
in a Moleskine, A5-sized.
Two page turners
across from each other.