Ticket Inspectors

Ticket inspectors on the tram. Run all you non ticket buyers, can’t you see, head to the exits, flee.

Grey coats like the Third Reich, badges at the ready, they try to be nice, warm, friendly, but...

One talks on a phone, one points to a hazardous bag strap on the floor, one smiles and watches

and nobody heads to the exits, nobody flees when they have the chance, is this honesty, I see? 

“Hello, good morning. Could you have your tickets ready?”

I hand mine over sideways, expressionless, cold.

I remember in the beginning of ticket inspectors the disgraceful behaviour I witnessed,

people bullied and harassed and removed from trams in head locks, belittled, put down, fascist.

“Thank you.”

I grunt, no smile. Despite it being years later, you will never win me back.

They point in code with each other, call first names and then they all exit, like a black cloud, a swarm. Gone.