Alone on the 18.10 from Euston

Escaping back into a thought

on the 18.10 from Euston

Furtive glances

quickly caught,

not quite sought

clutching presents newly bought

And the thrum of the rails is the anaesthetic

Ear buds in, with Ipods playing

Tired couples not quite saying

what they actually mean.

Doggy bags keep steady

steaming tea – helps get ready

for a session on the net

And the thrum of the rails is the anaesthetic

Should I say something now?

What? After two hours of quiet?

Why should I do it?

She’s bound to see through it.

I’m not really her friend

No, not at all

Best to pretend

And the thrum of the rails is the anaesthetic

© Irvin Skrzypiec-allen

 

2.12.04 on the way back from Bruges

A Poet's Call

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