Saturday, 19 January 2008

Riding the Train

Riding the train
The gentle purr of sleepers,
da dum, under my feet.
Peeling decrepit houses pass quickly,
flying past my scratched
murky window. Fast.
Stations with names like
musical tones, discordant
jarring vowels that roll. Hard,
around my tongue.
Factories reflecting the artists
of my time.

My train window, now a
modern gallery, as my eyes flicker,
beat by merciless beat, over
Angry. Sharp. Vibrant designs.
Trees - cut back - yearning
to be free, towards the light.
Branches. Imploring timidly
to reach beyond the rail fence.
Cut. Back.
Wounds smothered with
paint. Pain disregarded.
The train, a slumbering monster,
clanks forward. Uncaring, sightless.

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