Piccadilly Circus

This poem is unfinished. I would like to know how to expand this. Thanks

I had a dream last night riding Piccadilly Line
and circus lions, trapeze artists, and bipolar clowns
cartwheeled within each cart.
Then, the accountants and defense lawyers
petitioned for peace in the Underground,
picketing on platforms as each tunnel
swallowed speeding trains.

And my family rode on the front cart
for the 5:00 train and they were saying things
they normally never say, like
we should burn our savings to start our bum life
and
love we share does not rely on pents in pockets.
Ideas flowed out family member’s mouth like investments
deposited in trust funds.

I sat next to my Uncle,
fourth row from the front, where he told me
he loved me
and meant it.
And I learned how to cry again -
how not to hide my thoughts underneath brain folds
We sat on seats to watch clowns bounce around
in latex spandex, and the trapeze artists coughed fireballs.

Free entertainment for entertainments sake.