Four strangers around a table;
For one of whom, the long and leisurely
Journey into a still uncertain future
Was a step into a distant past
That ended before his memory began.

Forty five minutes’ unscheduled
Stillness awaiting cars from Boston;
I missed my sitting but there was
Still space.

It was twilight in more ways than one:
Decay, dereliction, decrepitude in
The parsimony of the wealthiest
Of nations, social Darwinism
Cynically disguised as tough love.

It was only once I was home,
Back in the reality we are often told
Is not the real world, that I
Remembered why I knew the name.

The place, though, I knew not:
Red bricks and steel frames could
Belong in a thousand places,
Each more moribund than the last.
The decline had set in
Before I was even born.

At the time, I ascribed the
Darkness of the vista to
The time of day.

As the train rumbled ever westward,
I turned the pronunciation over
And over in my head as I pondered
The different meanings of “chips”.

04/09/2017

Posted on 04/29/2017
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince