London

It was our first visit to London

I had expected more

for it to be different

but there it was

old, grey buildings

pasty skinned people shuffling by

the smiles of camera-carrying tourists

the only light

Dublin, with more pigeons

 

after grabbing a bite to eat

we descended beneath the city

The Tube

that impossible maze of echoing burrows

the smell of rubber, oil and bodies

streams of people

flowing down and down

 

we arrived at a platform

holding a map with coloured lines

something our daughter might have scribbled

a train was coming

preceded by a charge in the air

the slow rumble exploding

as it roared into our bubble

 

the train stopped quickly and all the doors flew open at once

a man stepped out

a big man

in a small jacket

the sleeves reaching only halfway down his forearms

he moved in stops and starts

jittering, just yards from us

 

the train doors closed

a calm and mechanical voice said

Train departing. Please step away from the platform.

within seconds the train was gone

as if it had never been there in the first place

the jittering man looked at me

red-eyed, I saw it dawn on him

“My bag. My bag!”

 

he ran to the edge of the platform

leaned out

looked into the dark and empty tunnel

and screamed into the thundering silence