Revelation

Scanning his fellow travellers

it strikes him he’s far more offensive
than the skinhead bastards taking up
all the space of Victoria Station concourse:

scary posse worming,

using sixth sense

to slow its messy progress,

tripping fast commuters

on the wedding train.

No expectations to fail,

they don’t stop.

Alternatively

the besuited old man

in the window seat never got going,

closes his eyes by popular demand

and leaves everyone in peace.