the heavy typer
sits next to me on the train,
a corporate animal
tied to his laptop,
reminding me of
someone playing
chopsticks on the piano.
engrossed in his email
he blows dust off his keyboard
and stares intently at the screen.
it half interests me
to know what he is typing
but it is bound to be boring.
he wears a blue uniform
blue suit, stripy blue shirt
and a striped pink and blue tie.
not really my kind of guy.
opposite him
a chap in his early fifties
looks far more relaxed
in an open necked white shirt
and sports jacket.
without being able to see
he is probably surfing.
his breakfast consisted
of a hot chocolate
and a Twix chocolate bar
he will be tired by the time
we get to London.
he is already yawning.
his young chum
with gelled, greying hair,
is in a dark grey pinstripe suit
and grey shirt.
he reads a novel
and says nothing
for the whole journey.