Voices On the Track
passengers gather while their turn awaits
very few standing out
except for one, sprawling along my seat
room for me, just about
awkward two-handed pillow cupping head
beyond waking, no doubt
long brown trench-coat, boot soles with rugged tread
next train ! should I nudge him ?
needful resting or chemical stupor
not for me to judge him
why interfere ? his world, his well-earned dreams
very hard to budge him
startled, distracted, nearly miss my call!
still he is not shifting
urgent rush on-board, his image fading
sit back, eyes uplifting
spy those familiar curls, grey wooly hat
conversation drifting
earwigging, eavesdropping across the aisle
their words come and go
tune-in and filter out the ambient
expose their to-and-fro
they are other people, not my business
but still I want to know!
his mature companion, black-haired beauty
she smiles, ten years older
for them, no others on their train of thought
like coinciding spheres
bodies tilt towards overlapping touch
as space between them clears
carriage swaying to their sound, back and forth
they listen intently
animated, probing his next response
she lectures him gently
university trends, what does he seek?
he replies attently
predator woman and willing victim
marooned oblivious
to those furtive glances, the flapping ears
attuned assiduous
audience pleasured, unfolding theatre
cocooned delirious
rails switch, clickety-click, clickety-clack
asks his destination
the one just coming but then no surprise
no procrastination
they stay together with no track of time
end-of-the-line station
reality tears, they remain enthralled
their mobiles uploaded
walk on by, lowered voices on the cusp
demeanour encoded
then lost in the crowd, I wish them both well
destiny railroaded
Copyright © Ian Love | Year Posted 2020
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