Commuters pirouette,

and trade positions, in

dance off thousands

on London stations.

 

Tourists saunter in

markets and shops,

while busy workers

improv, move,

and never stop.

 

Mamils hygge

in Lycra clothes,

aim their bikes

to rumba

right over your toes

 

and samba,

swing, and jive, to

skim potholes and

the slow shuffle

of the city hive.

 

Quicksilver cowboys

make sure

the pizza gets through,

 

while the driven

waltz their car monsters

into bays

made for two.

 

White vans choreograph

through sat nav streets,

make their moves

and beat a retreat,

 

itching to trip the

light fantastic,

like they do on

the wide-open stages

of car advert magic.

 

A city of dance,

everyone moving,

sharing the space,

everyone’s a grooving.