I take the metro and tour the world
on one single line, in one single hour,
I am south and white, not so south 
that I am ghetto, but I’m still south
so I start in paler shades, fragile skin,
freckled skin, skin burnt by sunlight
and I travel central to chicer centres,
to tote bags, Chanel bags, Prada bags,
bags so cool they don’t have names
carried with character and sun glasses
worn indoors over eyes, on the head,
and all through life, I cross the Seine
and the current now changes to casual
as the youth descend from Les Halles;
the track suits and highheels, gay boys
with toned tops, crew cuts in J crew’s,
chiseled cheek bones and trendy setters
with Asian angles, before I move north
again, further up the line and I darken,
in one stop; I am urban now, ethnic and 
eager with attitude, edgy, and on I go
until I’m swayed, suddenly, in shawls
and in wraps and in colours so bright,
I am now a kaleidoscope of carriages 
going north, tearing up into the ghetto,
of the greatness, of the gangs, the guts,
I am metro madness in one line of life.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly