Across the sea of arms and heads
A gold helmet breaks the horizon,
Reflected in the dome are angled eels of hands
Around the wearer.
A diver, perhaps,
Swimming the straits of a carriage
Pulsing with commuter anemones.
The incongruity dreamlike.
Jacques Cousteau static in a shoal
Of morning worker fish.
Or an astronaut, transfixed by a
First step onto a populous planet.
The contours catch the lights of
Marble Arch. The head turns.
A bespectacled cyclist of
Some years and creased brow.
Dive. Dive. Dive.
We’re off to Bond Street.