Full English on the 6:17

Full English on the 6:17


Breakfast en route to London

everything so hot

you could almost taste the radiation.


Across the First Class aisle

a young woman in a too-short hooped dress

watches videos on her phone

self-consciously out of place.

And grey commuters

whose days blur into an amalgam of routine

take their usual seats

and pay homage to the ritual,

a daily grind that starts and ends

with the alarm clock.


“Coffee please. And full English.”


The bacon tasted a little like processed cardboard,

yet who would have thought

black pudding could stand for refinement?



I sit back in my individual airline-style seat

and watch the black world

skitter by outside

waiting for the sun to rise.