Friday, May 12, 2006
Stationary
Stationary
The small girl in the red velvet trouser suit
smiling shyly into the sun, blonde hair shining.
As the Eiffel tower shoots skywards, behind her.
Faded print put carefully in battered bag
Rain is falling, maybe tears, can no longer tell.
Climbs the long green steps, to the clanking line 6.
The photo, last thing that remains of her self.
Pulls aching body up the stairs of Bir-Hakeim,
heavy bag in hands, doesn’t want to go home.
Tired and cold, but he will be at home by now
He who shouts, he who hits, he who screams, he who.......
In any case, nowhere else to go. So cold.
His pastis clinks on her knees, on the platform,
while the October wind whips along the long quais.
The tower above cold and mocking, imperious,
Memory of hopes now but a faded dream,
fantasies crack, splinter, to smithereens, spiral,
evaporate in freezing air by the Seine.
Join the bottomless maelstrom of broken hopes,
ruined lives, hovering vulture-like over Paris,
promising stardust, giving but broken glass.
“Le prochain train desservira ...” the voice intones.
The litany, all stations to Nation, the green
metro clanks laboriously into sight.
Lifts the bags, struggles with the silver handle,
hears the lengthy hiss, sighing as she mounts the train.
Saved in one way, at a high price though, her self.
dark imaginings by khlari @ 5/12/2006 02:39:00 PM
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