Tuesday, 18 September 2018

Waiting for the train


They were all poised to board the train
platformed, tweed-and-silk couples
with eager tickets and febrile voices
paper-ribboned among the common,
which even the back-from-debauchery
Saturday bunch couldn't outsmart
and from the three-pieced to the bow-tied
a thirsty dog licking the condensation off
their last-minute, soda-filled plastic bags.
 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Avis sur la chose en question
Feedback on the thing in question

Some days it's hard not to hate myself

  Some days it's hard not to hate myself The constant state of constant failure As if I didn’t take life seriously As if tomorrow didn’t...