Traveler’s Tale

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Inside fibreglass shaking shack,
the world drives by –
three yellow
upper
case
letters
tells me
stories from the lay-by,
where hordes of footprints
without shoes still haunt immutable tarmac…

Inside fibreglass shaking shack,
gales glide & sing –
each arpeggio
hiss around
panes
to
find
their way
with hydro poles,
headless quartets with mono strings…

Inside fibreglass shaking shack,
I watch time vanish
without shame –
where
ravens hang
above
my
head,
like messengers of
the unknown.

Inside fibreglass shaking shack,
I gradually despair –
nothing’s in
sight,
not the
Night Bus
Harry once took,
not even mentioned in a book…
I still wonder if the driver
never bothered at
the junction.

—————– Lerwick, 3 Jan 2014

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January 3, 2014 · 3:59 pm

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