Saturday, January 17, 2015

An everyday tale of urban life




 

He leaves for work
On leaden legs,
His mortgage on his back –
Another nine to five' er,
Taking up the slack

Policies paid up in full,
Front and back lawns mown,
He’ll miss the flowering cherry –
My, how that tree has grown

Today, he makes a slight detour,
Turns left instead of right,
At the end of Hawthorne Avenue –
His throat feels rather tight

The railway bridge is up ahead,
The eight o five is due,
He falters, only slightly –
He knows what he must do

He leans against the parapet,
The stone feels damp and cold,
He doesn’t want to go yet –
He’s thirty six years old

The train approaches in the distance,
Doing eighty on this stretch;
A few more seconds still remaining,
He’s feeling sick – he’s going to retch

He jumps – the driver sees him –
The squeal of steel on steel,
Too late – a bump - it’s over –
No second chance, no last appeal

There is a certain irony –
Though stark and rather grim –
Each day he caught the eight o five,
Now the eight o five’s caught him

A ripple in a suburban pond,
Soon fades and dies away,
A paragraph in the local press?
Is that all we’ve got to say?                                                                  














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