The Man in the Train Station

He looks up at the clock, then turns his gaze
Toward the parquet floor, and ponders his
Long-held belief that situations, such as this,
Quotidian, he's in a station, waiting for a
Tardy train, should ever be alloyed with
Others, fenced off, metaphysical. In other
Words, he waits. She's late. The train will
Come, the sign assures, but, until it arrives,
His life is frozen. He remains in place, and how
Is his life over all? The same, he sees. He
Shakes his head. It seems he always has been
Waiting. Something better has to come, but
Nothing does, and he does nothing. She's
Unreal, or may as well be. Time will pass.
If she arrives, he'll learn that she is not
The one who'll save him. She is passing
By. He looks up at the clock again, and then
Down at the parquet floor. This is his life.
He's doomed to wait. He wishes he was dead.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 129 times
Written on 2019-07-02 at 02:27

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