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The dot matrix display

is on the fritz again

Every train destined to 

arrive in eleven minutes

like a space-time loophole condensed into 

a solitary London borough 

A chorus of disapproving tuts and wheelie suitcases rolling 

over the ground 

Grunts of the disgruntled morning worker

grunts of my own as the train finally 

at long last or not long at all 

chugs into the space-time loophole

Leaving in two minutes, leaving in 102 minutes 

who knows

This time of day I only know 

that I really want a fucking coffee 

and a bit of calm before my day begins in earnest

I will get only one of these

And it is never the one

I truly need at the time