“I Was Informed”
I was informed we’d arrived at Sometime Station
Some late grey hour, but was I convinced?
Shadows’ shallows hid pertinent details tight behind the lids and since
I was not awake there was no stirring; no? then perhaps a little indigestion.
I somehow missed what seemed so clearly plain
To the passengers but nothing rhymed with what was printed
On the programme. The brochure gave me hints
And vague suggestions listing attributes and mundane
Tips on what the locals do and how one clothes
The outer skin and where to cast the eyes,
But when I briefly set the door ajar and opened windows
A judicious crack, I found nothing there resembled tips and innuendoes
That the guidebook said were there, nor what I’d seen in skies
Above my dreams and hopes, nothing close to inspiration:
Pilgrims best travel light and in their flight they forfeit anticipation.
“It Has Come To This”
It has come to this
It mattered not at all
Within my heart
And thus declined