And why not?

the nefarious Red Line zipped along its underground way
with so many detached, disengaged or mummified in silence,
hyper aware even as they ignored each other-
then
low and behold
Class herself steps on to the train-
cinched black coat a perfect mirror to
black gloves, hat, scarf, briefcase
and heeled Victorian boots

with a few streaks of blue in her hair
and a proper nose ring
she would be screaming SteamPunk
instead of Mary Poppins

governess it was though,
and she placed a delicate hand into her
delicatessen bag full of goodies,
sitting neatly on the seat beside her

she opened a new box of chocolate truffles
and wiggled her clad fingers in anticipation
of which ball of delight to eat first

on the Red Line, mind you
with crowds of going-oners
and mad push-pushers,
she sat in her Victorian boots
and enjoyed a chocolate indulgence
covered in hazelnut pieces

and why not?

in such a world
no one could begrudge the lady her treat,
especially when every one of us
-muffled in music and newspapers-
were pretending we weren't watching
as her sculpted mouth turned up into a smile