RUSH HOUR VI by Adebanji Alade

My Number One Excuse


This crowd is suffocating,
Pressed up in a wall
Of tightly packed people,
Getting too close to strangers
In the rush hour bustle.

Its always the same
On the over crowded train,
In my now daily commute
To another job I hated
But was glad to have.

I’d never been self employed
Doing what I loved.
So the way I recalled
The old jobs after they ended,
Was by the scenery to get there.

There was the one up high
Winding through foggy
Slick mountain roads,
Too early to be out of bed
Freezing in the stinging cold.

Then there was the stint
In the busy capital city.
A winding route through
The concrete jungle
That I had to learn quickly.

My favourite of them all,
Was the snaking beach road.
The horizon to my right,
And always with ample time
To take all its beauty in.

This one now by train
Is the trip I hate the most.
Unable to draw the line
Of boundaries being crossed,
Into my personal space.

In my next life I’m hoping
To be a happy housewife.
Where my commute to work
Will not take me beyond
My front door or backyard.

So I could be happily focused
On caring for the family
I haven’t made time to have,
In this lonely life of too many
Anxious journeys of earning.

Maybe I still had a chance
If I would dare to take it.
The love boat might have
Missed me the first time around,
But it wouldn’t on its return visit.

Besides, the transient jobs
Where my number one excuse,
For never grasping at the many
Opportunities that came along
For ideals to color my vista .

But this train ride is violating,
And abrasive, forcing the need
To immediately address my discontent.
Right now in my mind making plans
For the changes that will start this evening.


Ria 2016