every morning at 5.30am
I leave my block
turn left
walk through the courtyard
go through the steel gate that creeks
like a tanker being let out to sea
and then I’m out
crossing the road
passing the ambulance station
where the paramedics are changing shifts
working out of the backs of their vans
in which they save lives in see hearts stop in
before going home to make breakfast for their children
and brush their teeth
then I’m down past the car wash
doing a right onto Edgware Road
past the tile shop the Persian restaurant
the Cypriot barbers that’s been there for years
where I used to get my hair bowl-cut at 8
and then as I cross Frampton Street
slip in between the Transit vans parked up outside Embassy Plumbing
with the plumbers inside their cabins drinking tea or snoozing
waiting for Embassy Plumbing to open up
so they can get at the copper pipes and stopcocks they need
for their day’s graft
and then suddenly I’m on Edgware Road proper
amongst the discarded chicken boxes the discarded pizza boxes
the pitta breads naan breads chicken bones pizza crusts
mounds of rice
pigeons pecking at sick pats chucked up the night before
and ahead of me is the Marylebone Rd flyover
rising up out of the fumes and mist like our Kilimanjaro
our Mount Fuji
as I head towards there aware
with my ears pricked up listening out for any predators
that might want to get in the way of my progress
who might be hiding away in shop doorways
prone in the scrub
ready to break cover
and burst full pelt across the road at me
wanting to sink their teeth into my underbelly
as I head down the half-mile to the Marylebone Road
past Paddington Green nick
then across Marylebone Road to hook a right alongside the
Hilton Metropole
and as I wait by the bus stop there for the number 18
I watch the kerfuffle outside the hotel’s staff door
it is like a watering hole
they all gather here
the cleaners the chambermaids the porters the dishwashers
the receptionists the handymen the waiters and waitresses
all smoking cigarettes before they go into work
or whenever they have a break
all holding plastic cups of coffee or tea in their hands
talking to each other
the men with Slav tongues unleashing words out of their mouths
like shells leaving a big ship’s gun
quickly leaving the hot breath and smoke behind
before exploding in the air
and the ladies
letting their words exit their mouths like chucked knives
clashing and sharpening their metals
carving the air up into little bits
and the Africans there
all talking over-loudly and excitedly
like they’ve just won some kind of bet
spinning around while dragging deep down on their cigarettes
before throwing back their heads
and laughing that smoke out of their mouths
up into the cold air
then when the bus comes
I get on with the Somalians the Eritreans the Jamaicans
the Guyanese the Moroccans and the Slavs
all huddled up in their little bundles
tapping away at their phones or sleeping
as we all head in on the bus
pack together safe
passed the Travis Perkins by the roundabout
before coming up alongside the smart new offices of
Paddington Basin
where a youth club once used to stand
where men once earned enough money
heaping sacks into the backs of barges and trucks and trains
that they could feed their families with it
which I now stare in at
from the top deck
to see an empty call centre
scores of annexed offices
with their whiteboards and giant flip-pads
where employees will later be taught
the intricate ways in which they have to perform
if they want to eat
if they want to keep a roof over their heads
as we go down under the underpass
and then up onto Harrow Road
up over the canal
passed the college
passed the shut-down stripper pub
the lawyer’s offices offering benefit representation
the Westminster registration office
the giant Iceland
Shoe-Zone Angela’s Nails the Bangladesh Caterers Association
the scores of ethnic supermarkets and chicken shops
Halal-Aldi Wingin’ It
until my junction comes up
where I get off and walk up the last hill left
hook a left
and follow the bridge up over that dirty canal again
as on my left the sun rises up behind Trellic Tower
spreading its great oranges and purples across our great
unforgiving concrete savanna
before turning left into the road
that leads me finally down into work

the monarch butterfly does this
the blue whale does it
salmon
and wildebeest do it too
but they only do it once every year
while we do it every day
day after day
week after week
year after year
but no one ever makes documentaries about us
no one ever sits in front of their tellies of a night
listening to David Attenborough
tell us how beautiful it all is
that a man can travel the same path
every day
twice!
just so he can keep hold of his job
just so he can eat
drink
secure a mate

just so he is able
to carry on
surviving

just so he is able
to keep on
keeping on