25th August 2009

A small space in the back of a carriage that
No one particularly notices,
Without a space behind, a single space,
A Hideaway for most.

Enough room for someone as thin as I,
Blistered foot, sore back, nothing less,
Daydreaming into daylight –
No view from the sun will pass my very eyes
Or pain them to a point where I begin to
Resent the surroundings of my own.

Whirring keeps going and I feel less tired,
Thus, Hideaway does me well; it
Leaves me room to kick my feet, to
Stretch my elbows, to
Move from side to side,
Whilst dreaming about the bed I return to soon
And yet my head still droops towards the side.
Flat walls on three sides, clean and free of
Any form of generous graffiti,
Somewhere, much,
Like a Hideaway.