It jerks and rumbles through the blue,

Hauling night-capped sitters

Over seven time-zones.

They emerge rubbing bleary sun,

Breathing forgotten toothpaste.

Clock hands are all out of whack,

If anything slipping slyly back,

And the taxi red in a breakfast noon.

 

That night it’s 3am, or 7pm,

Dinner: broccoli, salmon, spaghetti!

The routine buoys him,

The rhythm looses,

And floating on homeward foam,

He departs a nameless jetty.