Rush Hour

On the tube
No room to move
Someone’s bag
In my back
A small constraint
For the life we paint
Starting my day
In the walkway
A short wait
A few glances
Some irate
More jump in
Not the best circumstances
Like beans in a tin
All squashed tight
With no space in sight
We are on our way
Minor delays
No conversation
Lost in concentration
Scrolling through phones
So It begins
Again