03 June 2011


          Heading home, bone-weary,
          riding on the last train for the northeast line
          with his eyes closed, his mind fading out on itself
          one dark memory falling into the next,
          collapsing into dream. From within,
          the doubts emerge, one by one, like small,
          implacable stars, tugging at each other
          from distances impossible to resolve,
          until that sudden light, at tunnel’s
          end, breaks into consciousness,
          the doors sliding open, the last passengers
          shuffling out, as he wakes to see that
          he’s gone too far again, missed his stop
          searching for himself on the
          way back home.
posted by Gilbert at Friday, June 03, 2011


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