My nose is in your armpit

My nose is in your armpit,
Your bag is on my toe,
On this train there is no toilet,
But I really need to go.
Someone unpolitely
Let one rip
Two stations back,
With such force
And with such violence
The train trembled
On the track.
The foul smell
Is stomach churning,
I almost feel I might be sick,
At least if I did vomit,
I might get some space
And quick.
New passengers
Crowd on the train,
I feel my toes run flat,
By a woman with a trundle case
And overbearing hat.
The last thing that is needed,
Happens next, of course it does,
The gentleman in seat 3A
Takes off his leather gloves,
And delves into his briefcase
Where he finds a cling-wrapped roll,
That is full of fish and onions
And for him, it fills a hole.
But what about the rest of us,
Subjected to its smell?..
Oh dear I fear this journey
Is not one that’s going well.

This entry was posted in Daily Life, Frivolity and Frippery, Travel and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to My nose is in your armpit

  1. Hahaha! Been there, done that, Pooky. How are you?

    Liked by 1 person

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