This Book Begins

This book begins
With a mad rush for the train.
The alarm wakes me.
I wash, shower, dress
Black trousers, orange shirt, yellow socks.
Smooth operation.
I’m early.
I have time to spare.
I sip my coffee.
Check the map.
But time concertinas.
Maybe time saxophones.
Either way I’m in a hurry now.
Time metronomes.
I’m leaving the house.
Blast!
My glasses!
They are in my dressing gown pocket
On the back of the bedroom door.
I run up the stairs.
I’m moving fast.
Time is a foxtrot.
There’s a heavy frost.
I start the car.
The windscreen is an iced cake.
The de-icer’s in Jill’s car.
The key’s on my key ring
In the ignition.
I turn off the engine.
Find the de-icer.
De-ice the windows.
Now the car won’t start.
I have to de-activate the thief lock.
I manoeuvre through the gate.
Stop.
Close the gate.
I wait for the de-icer to kick in.
Time is a mazurka.
Time is a polka.
Luckily there’s no traffic at six in the morning.
Luckily the station car park ticket machine works this time.
Luckily there’s no queue at the ticket office.
The level crossing’s down.
I can hear the train coming.
I run over the bridge.
Catch the train
On the last note of the final coda.
Organise myself,
My hat, coat, case, book
And notebook.
I’m starting a new notebook today.
The phrase, This book begins
With a mad rush for the train
Comes into my head.