train station

this, train station, now, buried deep,
down, down in the recess of
this airport, working in metronomic regularity,
functionality. silence. lost
in the hollows in the caverns in the glassy
shell. twice the limbo. doubly displaced. so,
we sit hunched over, drawn
into ourselves, reaching, reaching
within, yet flinching, fleeing at faintest
contact, burrow our fragile selves in the depths
of newspaper, of books, of anything
to slide, to hide in oblivion – islands
on slabs of concrete grey.
the quiet conditioners, they hum
word-less, sound-less tunes, songs of the age
that bounce, twirl, and fall, neglect
by ears, deafened a thousand, thousand times till
nothing is heard and we have stopped listening.
we are grateful then, muttering snatched prayers
of relief, heaving weariness, as the solitary
train creeps in. its doors shunt, open and close
after us, after we have sidled, shuffle, shuffle
to nestle against the comfort of violated plastic
and tainted glass. we doze, heads drooping, minds flitting
someplace, somewhere, anywhere else as
the train collides
into the familiar swallowing darkness.