Platform A

(Me waiting at the Gautrain station; Was feeling a tad bored waiting for my train. Wrote something on a piece of paper and found it in my handbag yesterday)

 

There’s a buzz, a machine

linked to a schedule

and if you listen closely

there’s a muted sense of

 

absolute adventure

 

a cry for the box

four cars that reek of routine

vessels that hold the

one, two, three

Who should I pretend to be?

the deepest gates

where will I go

who will I be

 

The faces

interchangeable

 

pretty robots who seek

nothing but the start

the finish

raindrops that scatter

gather

form their own kind

when so many are off to be one

and make your plans

the bolts will listen

but your mind

it’ll lift off

and decipher the formidable

the minutes pretending

they’re nothing

or everything

 

the carts of comfort

become torture chambers

Die volgende stasie is

whatever you want it to be

where will one go

who will I be

 

The faces

interchangeable

 

 

 

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