I have been sitting here counting the minutes
Listening for the distant signs of my train
Something that would guarantee the next chapter
The big panels and ticket machines confuse eyes
Sometimes opportunity is no further than a cattle prod
I was afraid to window shop souvenirs
I wouldn't dangle legs over the side
Or play games with any oncoming train
The platform seemed to be endless
I looked down the length
swore I could see the next station
In the distance
An empty skittles packet is pushed by the wind
It comes so close to falling off the platform
Onto the tracks below like an empty person
But it didn't fall it just scraped sharply with each gust
No wind strong enough to send it on
In this huge open structure where people wait and wait
Forgetting to question forgetting to meditate
Staring at clocks, anxiety in wallets, purses and veins
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