Sporadic nomadic

I am tugged in five different directions

gently drawn and quartered

I take restless to another level

My bag is perpetually packed, an A-Z in the pocket

railcard in its worn plastic wallet, check my tickets,

my iPod the only companion.

Another train, walk, train, bus, metro, tube

Another book or two

and “Can you believe it’s nearly 3 years?

Where has the time gone?”

I’ve left clumps of it here and there;

like the swilled dregs from coffee cups in swinging bins at stations,

it’s dribbled unnoticed away.

Where am I headed?

What is my final destination?

Well, that depends what you mean

and what answer you want.

I’ve a split ticket;

I’m breaking my journey

for economy

& I’ve got an open return.

“This is the final call for this service

please take all your belongings with you as you step from the train to the platform.”

Because the cleaners in coats have come to evict discarded leftovers.

Once again in the waiting room of my life

I watch the fortunate few catch the express train through

Whilst I am restricted to the stopper.

But where to next?

I stare at the departure board unsure

reassessing my options

calculating what the delays will do

and when I might finally get to leave.

Signalling problems; the future is inscrutable.

“Please listen for further announcements.”


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