*If you’re not from London, the UK, this poem will probably be lost on you. It’s a love/hate letter to our newest subway line: the Elizabeth line.*

Dear Lizzy

why must you be so busy?

as we are crammed in like canned tuna

from top to tail

without fail

I’m pressed up against a man who thinks deodorant

is the same as taking a shower.

Dear Lizzy,

you make me dizzy, when it’s midnight

and I’m waiting for a train in the pouring rain

at Hayes and Harlington

for no less than twenty minutes.

Dear Lizzy,

you have me in a tizzy

because you’re great in between Paddington and Whitechapel

as for the rest

like going out west

you really put me to the test.

Dear Lizzy

bust just wait

because it’s not all hate

as you have AC.

And when the sun is high

I don’t want to die

like I do if I’m on the Central or the Northern or the Bakerloo or the Piccadilly or the Victoria.

Dear Lizzy

it’s sometimes a pain

when you are stuck behind a late-running freight train

and you’re crawling into Paddington

that’s no fun.

Dear Lizzy

when somebody’s being weird

or when there’s somebody that oughta be feared

because you do get a lotta weirdos,

at least I can run away into the next section.

Dear Lizzy

with you my phone’s always charged,

I can plug in and play

day after day

I can rely on your free electricity,

as I commute into the city

Dear Lizzie,

you might be a hot mess

using you gives me stress

but if I can avoid the sauna that is the Bakerloo

or the screeching tracks of the Northern.

The crowds on the Jubilee are not the meek.

so Lizzie, I will catch you everyday of the week.