I Catch my Breath

On the train I smell glue
Tarzan’s Grip
A friendly smell
Of making models as a kid
On rainy days when just to be inside is good.

But on the train?
Has there been repair by railway staff?
A tear in the upholstery maybe?
Or perhaps a notice had become unstuck
A friendly smell of creativity or reparation.

I look around
My eyes are following my nose
Slumped in a corner
Head bent to a plastic bag half hidden in her shirt
A young girl deeply breathes.

***