Girl in a Giraffe Onesey
The rushing student in rabbit hat just makes the train,
the door squeezes shut and we’re off!
Hissing past winter’s flooded farms;
though We glisten like jungle leaves in a hot house –
And the smell of packed animals – Oh, the smell!
Opposite a manager taps his keyboard in novelty tiger gloves
and, stroking his whiskers, looks up and
tenses; with fixed cat stare –
And we know there’s always a tiger on a train!
Passengers fidget like wildebeest on the plain,
Clouding the windows, as we watch him transform –
And we know you can’t escape a predator if it’s close enough!
There she sits, slender necked, bent over her mobile,
brown chequered suit and tufted tail,
black boots and bag,
It’s the girl in the Giraffe Onesey –
And she doesn’t seem to know that there’s always a tiger on a train!
Soon the clattering wheels will stop
and morning sun will splash the station roof red
and we fall silent, dead silent.
If the tiger had a tail it would twitch.
And we know, we really know, that no-one can escape a tiger if it’s close enough!
Then he springs from his seat, sharp teeth and claw
and rabbit-boy pulls the communication cord, terrified
and scratches at the door.
She startles, unbends her knees and neck and,
with one stride, kicks the door open and swings
on massive thighs, apple tree high, across the field –
Pursued by a tiger in full sprint!
But giraffe coolly turns at field end and rubs her neck against the hawthorn
and chews the leaves as she sneers back at tiger,
Stopped in midfield, sag-bag empty, pulling off his gloves,
hands - on - knees, panting.
And we settle back relieved - there’s no tiger on our train!
thanks to Grace for the great picture