Bloody station bricks,
housing possibilities
pulled away by clenched teeth train tracks
plugging forever forward
sizzling with summer sun

What a perfect time
to wash your filthy hair 
and come here for 4.45pm
watch the hour turn golden 
and dust collect in the corners

You, with your suitcase in shaking hand,
look over your shoulder
or at your wrist 
but you never owned a watch,
you never chased time

the train pulling in
looks more lovely this afternoon
than all your christmas mornings
but no compass will guide you
missing each minute
you board another one

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