I’m on this orange oblong
riding four wheels. Ready
to muscle along through
the clinging city traffic. Placing wheelchair
facing rearwards with back
against the bulk-head, brakes applied.
I face onto iPods in ears and
mobiles in hands and ice from eyes
and mouths - everybody googling or facebook locked.

The outside seems warmer
than inside this shell, until, in their own seclusion
a young couple shyly express their love for
each other. A busker of little English
bundles on with collapsible stool and
hand accordion in tow, he eagerly
organises his coins in preparation for a busy night.
He asks the time of his distant neighbour, who pops
out an ear-piece to give a quick glance of his watch
with no words to offer back.

As all aboard prepare to
jump ship, the busker asks if this is the city -
‘Yes, it certainly is’ I say.