The Central Line is Red Today

Toeing the yellow line.
Watching the mice in the grime.
He stood close to the passing trains.
Too close.
Wavering on his imaginary tightrope.
Tipping forward and pulling back.
Just in time.
Testing the balls of his feet in brown suede shoes.
He edged forward.
In rapid decline.
Trains ripped through.
Clouds of commuters billowed on and off swallowing him up and spitting him out as they moved.
He tipped forward one last time.
Making a red mess forever impressed on the driver's mind.
Failing finally on the Central line.
A flood of blood and a jumble of broken bones left to the clean up team.
He didn't want to go alone.

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