Step Outside of Your Comfort Zone: Neverwhere

5:16pm. You're standing on the platform,
Shoulder to shoulder with the same faces, often the same coats,
All waiting to mob the inbound train and stuff it to capacity.

The smell of piss and rust swell up,
Hovering over the clouds of perfume, B.O. and regret.
"Is this all there really is? The 9 to 5? The daily grind?"

You can feel the trembling of concrete beneath your feet,
Hear the echos of metal pushing forward
As water cascades down the decrepit, once-white walls.
You see the harsh round light approaching.

Suddenly, in the corner of your eye, you spot a mysterious looking man,
Trailing after a mouse-like girl with bright opal eyes.

They're pushing through the crowd, 
Fighting, reaching, racing -
Lunging forward in heavy coats and yards of demolished tulle...

But no one else seems to notice.

You try to get a better look, to see why they're so panicked.
Are they being chased?
Am I the only one who sees them?

Where did they go?

The train arrives. No sign of either one as you rejoin the cattle call,
Pushing your way onto the train, soon to sail down the darkened, dampened tunnel,
Along with all the other zombies heading home.

Where could they have gone?

The train scuttles to a stop. Doors open.
Fog rises up from deep beneath the streets.
A stranger pushes past, drops something near your feet.
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, the books says,
Looking up at you from a smudge of city life.
Doors close.

Book opens.

Not everything is as it seems,
But as above, so below.