Sometimes I want to eat Parliament

Slowly rolling past Westminster,

Arrival removed by the signal,

I am tempted to reach out 

and eat a piece of parliament.

Like a sweet monument of

a perfectly crafted cake

sugary towers peeking through gaps,

tempting me to a nibble.

Delayed for no reason,

old bread for breakfast -

too long to commute for the price of a roof -

I roll standing on the cattle train.

My tired bits rattle in vain

leg sleeping again -

sometimes I want to eat parliament.