Friday, November 07, 2008

transit on the brain

More questionable poetic musings. They're just spilling out at the moment, imperfect and trite as they are.

Stationary transfer
We entered and exited virtually every station together: I counted.
...King, Queen, Yonge, Coxwell, Broadview...
We stalled somewhere below ground--
lights out; no announcements.
You used an emergency exit.

By the time I got to Union, you'd already gone on,
the rumble of your train dying away down the tunnel
as I swayed numbly on the platform,
an invalid transfer crumpled in my hand.

1 comment:

LadyLungDoc said...

It's a very good poem - small solace that you are able to create something with the shambles. I hope it gets easier soon.