Station Platform

a pinch of salt in the air
gritty faces stare down their tracks
looking for something to whisk them on their way

doves settle on the sewage works
Waiting for the warmer climbs to return
and those on the platform long for them
and for the jubilee line’s revival yearn

changing times and changing lines so often effected
by the strength of the will against that of the pound
and the need to rage against the machine

mr evening standard shows no sign of The Times
yet his decline lies deeper than his pockets
or the lines around his eyes

crows feet pitter patter in puddles on the platform
equaling their knowing discordant song
they truly see what’s going on

for changing times and changing lines
are all so often another sign
that we are buying the lie

the people on the platform look back
down the lines and track the fact that
they no longer search for what’s to come
but long for what’s dear, but long gone

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