Burping on the tube…

I can’t believe I have to fucking do this,

I can’t believe I have to fucking do this,

Is all that’s going through my head,

There’s only one place I should be – bed.

Nobody told me about the crying,

Nobody told me about the crying,

But here I am floods of tears pouring from my eyes,

From the depths of my stomach, I feel vomit rise,

But It doesn’t come,

I. wish. it would




Just another burp.

Burping and crying, I descend the escalator to the tube,

I walk painfully  slowly – feeling depressed and subdued,

I’ve just burped in a man’s ear, he looks around horrified,

I want to rage – have you ever had something growing inside ?

Have you ever even tried?

No. I thought not,

So let me burp.

I scowl at him,

he pulls out his phone,

Texting a friend?

Texing a friend, are you?

Really? underground?

Is it actually going to go through?

What are you going to say?

That there’s a mad crying, burping woman following you?

I sit opposite him on the carriage,

he’s suited, middle aged,

with a face annoyingly cleanly shaved,

for some reason,

to me, he has become,

the face of the patriarchy

and I am staring at him, weeping,

snot dripping out my nose,

burping every minute or so,
he looks scared,

actually he’s looking at me,

like I’m pathetic,

The patronising piece of

I bet he’s called Simon

Or Paul 

Or Patrick

I bet he cheats on his wife,

and to his kids, I bet he’s not that nice

I bet he talks about money all the time,

and I bet he bangs on about red wine,

I bet he doesn’t understand a woman,

not really,

I bet he has never made one come.

I bet he wan’t there when his wife gave birth,

and suddenly I realise I am off the tube,

following him down the street,

my footsteps quickening, pacing behind,

as I think of all the things he signifies

He turns around and I hide behind a bin,

I can’t even remember – how did this all begin?

But. I. can’t. stop. following. him.

Now he has reached a gate,

Oh a front garden – ladebloodydah

He goes through it, towards the door,

which he unlocks and walks in,

and damn the curtains are closed,

I can’t see in –

Well, I guess that’s it,

Whatever it is?

But fuck I really need to piss,

I don’t suppose they will notice,

if I just pull my pants down here,

Oh yes clean cut man –  danger, danger, danger,

I am pissing all over your hydrangeas,

and suddenly the curtains are open

and his whole family can see,

me, in their garden, having a pee.

He opens the window,

‘Get out, Get out. What’s wrong with you?’

I pull up my pants and trousers and run out the gate,

And I just can’t remember the reason for all that hate,

But I think we can assume the lesson to be:

If I burp in your ear, smile, nod in appreciation, even say why thank you

Because there’s no telling what a woman, eleven weeks pregnant, might do.