Faster than falling, faster than waiting,
Redbrick and mortar, matter and grating;
And charging along like troops in a tunnel
Shuttled together and fired by funnel:
All of the sights of the ugly and wet
Run as thick as trickled sweat;
And ever and yet, in six winks of an eye,
Whistled paintings station by.
Here is a child all sulky and brown,
Kicking stray shins 'til Kentish Town;
And here are the ladies upstanding with gazes
Invading a seat by military phases;
Here is a boss and here is a bum,
Tasteless and skewed like long-chewed gum;
And here is the stop, and here is the chap,
Mechanically warning to mind
                              the
                                   gap.


						- Thomas Clark