Race against the clock

I’m sitting in the garden

Soaking up the sun

I fall into a dream

A recurring theme

There’s something else needs to be done

Ah yes! I’m to sit Chemistry A level in five minutes

And I’ve done no revision

Since 1971.

I’m on a station platform

More than ninety miles away

From the Greenwich Park queue

For the Portaloo

On London Marathon day

No trains – just a replacement bus

So here I’ll have to stay.

My dreams are rarely scary

Occasionally I’ll knock

The lampshade off the bedside chest

And give myself a shock

I always must be somewhere else

Like an airport or a station

As I race against the clock

It came to life for real once

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

One plane was touching down

The other on final call for boarding

We sprinted through the airport

And flopped down in our seats

Something I’d rather not repeat

In my time-poor dystopia.

However long I’ve slept for

However calm the night

If I’ve had to race

To another place

And the timing has been tight

I wake up knackered, and I feel

Like seven shades of sh*te.