As the trailing traffic trundles br Slug-like slow through humdrum London, br Serpentine, so slowly snaking, br As the working world is waking, br Does it drag its feet, despondent br That its journey's such a long one? br br Is it glum, lethargic, lagging br Stultified by last night's stabbing br By the youths who prowled the pavements? br Is it stopped in shocked amazement br At the fights and altercations br Of the drivers who lack patience? br br Does it long to laze and linger, br Too relaxed to raise a finger, br Pull its socks up, get in motion? br Does it ever get a notion br That we crushed-in cramped commuters br Have to rush to our computers? br br Is is dragged down, all enjoyment br Drained by rising unemployment? br Settling scores with willing workers, br Does it shuffle just to irk us? br Is is giving us a warning br Since we've cursed its crawl each morning? br br Voyeuristic, as it goggles br At the skimpy-kitted joggers, br Is is racked by indecision? br Will it cause the next collision? br Does it rubberneck at crashes br Peering as it slowly passes? br br Has it got a sage solution br Putting paid to fume pollution? br Is its so-annoying slowness br Just an eco-friendly bonus br So we lose our love to travel br As our road-romance unravels?br br C Richard Milesbr br