Keep Going
Aldgate had its usual smell of dirty metal and coffee. I jumped from platform to carriage. I squeezed beside a Tate Britain poster, clutched the grab-handle. When I chanced a glance, I saw I was the only one standing. Everyone else was wearing spacesuits.
I took a seat.
“Glad to have you on board,” my neighbour said. “Welcome to the new frontier.” I’d clearly been mistaken for an old friend at a stag party or member of an experimental drama group. The train was rocketing faster and faster – each station name more blurred than before.
How would I explain my stratospheric lateness to my new manager?
My security badge rattled against my drumbeat heart. My oyster card cartwheeled like space debris. A fried-chicken bone struck the ceiling. Outside was as blue as a David Hockney pool.
We burst out of the tunnel. “Mind the atmospheric gap. Strap yourselves in.” said the driver over the tannoy. “My sat-urn nav is set for the sixth planet from the sun.” We all laughed through our visors at this astronaut in-joke.
“The buffet will serve rehydratable snacks for your enjoyment.”
My new friend handed me a menu, pointed to the Star Burger Special. We gave each other the thumbs up.
David was born in West Bromwich but grew up in North Lincolnshire. His first published poem was on a beer mat . He was awarded a New Poets Bursary in 2013 by the Northern Writers’ Awards (New Writing North). He is included in The Best Ever Book of Funny Poems (Pan Macmillan, 2021). His debut pamphlet, The Twilight Shift, is published by Wild Pressed. http://www.wildpressedbooks.