Can I Value?
24th March 2009
The familiar drop of a hole from a platform.
Bricks that keep on flying.
My toes squish together between the metal bars
and the seat in front of me.
So drastically anti-social.
Toe stuck in vacuum cleaner,
like a hand waving out of a dirty window.
Holes and glue where a handle once was;
A window shit, no longer open.
Racing a car on a different road,
not familiarly at a height.
Not used to the altitude of an alternate spot.
Stopping to see a better view than
the dodgy limestone grey of
the bland little transport building,
where several pass away.
So often a shout, as the wave of a flag
echoes through the grey.
For I didn’t know that such an act would
condemn me all the same.
Two sides of a minor world.
For I stand on one, ready to move, to depart.
I am stopped by a toothless question.
No, I don’t have any money, why you.
I stand on this side to leave and try to walk away.
The question passes by and my logic
makes me try;
no one could be less daft?
And therefore I continue to another small
world, that ceases to roll and turn.
And I keep flying, and watching,
to forget –
to forget what I’ve left behind.