Just an observation

Just an observation

He finds quality in the taut time on trains,
femur deep in company
his clavicle clicks.

There are friends to text
sex to think of
tunnels to track with ballpoints.

But struck
by a fisherman reading fantasy
he is hot and cold and out.

Even when we enter
a village which is paler than porridge
and I point out a JCB resting on its fist,

a man with chopstick arms
bouncing marshmallows on leashes
coated in pond protein,

the fact that the planes are all mobiles
that we are holding the sky up
and need more speed,

he can't hear me.
The fisherman, thumb folds the page
flicks a whelk knuckle in our direction
and reeling, clunks off the train.