Cockblock the King’s Rock, cos she’s
Rocking a baggy pink beanie, slumping
Like a Slowpoke that feels kinda sleepy.
Tuck in the blonde hair
Get it all up under there,
Goldilocks using travelcards to escape those three bears:
Ménursa trois with the wholegrain grains,
Organic porridge to start the day,
Tuck it away, slurp it up, she’s got the curves
That make commuters look up,
Stood up in the carriage in those
Kitten killer heels, a suede covered marriage
Between a kitty and killer deals.
Relax, watch her balancing act,
She’s not holding on cos her phone is switched on –
Eye of pig and beak of angry bird,
Call it a 21st century witches coven.
Covered the top now onto the bottom,
Skinny black jeans swinging in the northern line breeze,
Puff it, I’m wheezing, should pack it in,
But I’m packing fascination for her
Maroon puffa jacket,
She’s looks like grapes in bubble wrap
And I wanna unwrap it.
Asked what’s in the package
Packed into the burnt copper rucksack
Slapped onto to her back,
Just like a donkeys pack
But it slumps to one side
And inside what kinda mysteries might it hide?
Close your eyes, spread your mind,
Shit this is her stop, but it isn’t mine,
As she wanders by, under my breath
I whisper ‘Goodbye’ and without breaking step
She exits the train with a hint of a smile.