In a quiet place
white walls
won’t speak
any louder
than quiet
demeanor;
rude-prude
indifference
to converse -
disjointed
response;
a nervous
system
unlearning
how to walk
straight,
descending,
shaking legs,
unsteady
knees, needing
a sense of
equillibrium;
self-imposed
insomnia
does this.
Watching a
sunrise over
an empty
train station
dislodging
its too soon
passengers
at the corridor,
as clouds
shape dinosaurs,
reptillian rays
of yellow-white
through cotton-pink
into haze-blue
aura of dawn.
Step back
half an hour
the tracks
squeel, as a
record turned
back by the needle,
howling through,
as a whistle,
not long before
horns, traffic,
dragging feet,
tired muscle,
limping joints,
fast hands
cringing at
the dust,
dirt, grime,
of an ill-
maintained
public service,
gears in limbo
shift -
to a halt.
