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.