1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I nestle my neck back
in the ruff tough of mank mocquette;
the train slips and slides on the
autumnal smoothie of leaf-lime on the tracks;
I’m surrounded by paranoid passengers
some prepped, some pooped
almost all commuter piqued
as we head from Suburbia to Disturbia
and the mandatory machinations
of manual or menial minionship;
my crutch?
My dozy dreams
where every journey ends at Wembley
or so it seems.



The one journey where i didn’t doze, but day dreams just the same!

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/destination/