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May 1, 2018

A quiet morning,

The joggers jogging.

A cold morning,

The sun is no more.

Now we see clouds,

Clouds and rainfall.

Steady rainfall,

A light rainfall.

Comforting all the city,

Bringing greens out in greeneries.

All the greens,

. an excitable voice ….


A strike day, or not,

I know no more.

He who awaits no train,

On a train platform and all.

In any case, he likes the ambiance,

Underground, strange odours.

Strange lights and voices,

In the train car:

Strange voices,

I don’t understand:

Why are train cars not silent,

Deathly silent. Eerily silent.

There’s only one voice,

Out! Away with you! Cry I.


Within city limits, still,

No: I’ve crossed the border.

Dreary suburbs,

Dreary day.

There’s no sign,

No sign at all.

The strike continues,

There are no negotiations.

Idiot! Cry I,

Strikes, never ending.

One voice departs,

Another arrives.

Stress, the overall sentiment,

Anxiety …. stay at home.


Shake the hand of a woman,

I know not if my kisses are welcome.

A strange conundrum,

Cover the mouth while speaking.

Stand behind your place,

We await silence. Sit.

Take off your jackets, in silence,

Two queer boys, crossed legs.

I, one. Should be trilingual!

Mother, she failed me.

But rightly, it was father,

A big city expands: strange.


They take no breaks,

Weeks of leave, not taken.

Lost, hence. A lie, hence,

In fact, it’s proven true.

He won’t find work,

He’s not troubled.

Home loans, etc,

The bank will have its way.

The bank controls all,

All the money …. All the pay ….

My pay packet’s diminished,

All along, they erred.

Thus I. Now, it’s I who repays,

And it’s they with endless wealth.

Empty pocketed I,

Deep pocketed they.

Infinite pockets they,

Holes in pockets I.


Put down technology,

On a seat, a train car seat.

Take gloves off,

Gloves against the cold.

In train cars there is no cold,

But there is the music of an insolite.

And again, strange (regular) odours,

Sirs and madams. We check your fares.

We strike. You pay the full fare,

Maybe I’ll strike one day.

Just to avoid obligations:

This is well understood.


The strike killed off my prose,

And my pose and general wellness.

My weakness has been exposed,

Strike; I’m broken.

But I’m in favour of strikes,

It’s in my blood.

My philosophy says strike,

Go on non-strike days.

Take a break,

Take a holiday.


She returns well bronzed,

He also. I care not for he.

A brief respite from music,

He takes a call.

What an idiot voice,

And what poor taste.

This is a fool’s playground,

A wasteland.

Trains broken down ….

Yes. We all share your tastes.

The train stops here,

No: today it continues.


He chews gum, open mouthed,

He’s domesticated.

I don’t look up to beggars’ faces,

Dirtied faces. Pitiful faces.

Shameful image; shameful act,

One more stop then ….

Madness. There’s madness all round,

The music. Graffiti.

I’m stunned: a stun gun,

I’m relieved of suffering.

At the dead end,

The dead end of town.

Yes: they arise to depart,

From you. Someone’s waiting at home ….

Only the fool is welcomed,

I …. I am most alone.


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