Suitably respectable and never asking for
trouble or the time of day.
I wait at the station
like a cattle dog.
My master gone in the midst of a promise,
tells me I am ready for transit;
my bones wait for flesh
my theatre for Godot.
News on paper says a factory burns.
Expiry dates determine that wafer crumbles in its tin.
Apollo is a god who sends one of his chariots to the moon.
I’m ten years beyond birth already
counting ways to escape the infirmary.
Looking into this forgone conclusion
I peer over my shoulder at a leafless tree.
Will there be leaves on it one day.
Who can say.
For what I mean