“How Many Transfers”


“How Many Transfers”

How many transfers, how many lives
And never mind the pain;
I ascend descending steps and reign
For miniutes on the platform sans fatigue, forgetting strife.
Less the aromatic oils of obstacles, reticent, perhaps, for yet another year’s
Summer’s breath. This station welcomes that train
Long before it leaves. Weightless freight speeds gently seen through panes
Of plastic;  the métro’s brilliance holds nothing more pernicious than it’s dawn,
while evenings’ dusks merely signal calm amid collective progress in arrears.
Knowing anything (a slight surprise) does not smooth the way,
No urban superstition nor phatic prayer, no tragic flaw
Abides dissembling diatribes to thrwart decision.  Intervention
Needs not advertise a lack of means to champion fixed decision
From nothing more than daily pundits’ milk straight from the elect;
No thing in heaven or in the earth is ever quite remembered
At the baggage claim as all my January’s premonitions die as early as December.

2 responses to ““How Many Transfers”

  1. hast thou obtained a season ticket?… Loving the symbolism…I carry my baggage on wheels, but still the steps wage war as I insist on lumping the heavy thing up them…I feel sure that’s why my left shoulder now complains loudly and painfully, the doc wants to use a steroid injection… Yikes I say!!
    Couldn’t we just grow wings and fly?… xPenx

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