Rear view

Facing backwards on the train

to see the place I’ve been, again,

to meet the people facing me

whose eyes reflect what I can’t see.


The world behind is a surprise

that meets my back before my eyes,

and if I never turn around

I’ll never know what I have found.


Train of Thought

On a daisy train
curling southwards
hung with industrial injuries
graffiti’d ghettos
and hacked off cityscapes

I want to hold the hand
of a mobile tragedy
who melts down a tissue
with catastrophic tears
over a spilled life.

Prospectors in shiny shoes
and trousers with ears
talk down marriage
berate chicken nuggets
and disturb sensibilities

pausing only briefly
as a ticketless traveller
is discreetly sidelined
and conducted towards
a less selubrius journey.