3 Steps down from the Station Exit

3 steps down from the station exit

She sits in transitoriness

Observing the tides of the human soul

Pouring through the gates.

Quarter past the hour;

Half past,

Quarter to;

They arrive in waves, flooding into the open air like so many droplets in water

Each molecule thrumming with the vibrancy of life.


A sense of effervescence fills the air

in these short flurries of activity

As Passengers arrive


And dissipate

In the blink of an unwatching eye-

They fall into the mass of the city,

disintegrate into shards of motion and colour only

losing their individual forms.


But wait just one moment;

Pause and observe.

Find some battered bench, or  alcove to perch in, or step to lounge on

and Allow yourself

to breathe,

to be-

Give yourself one small,

                            subtle chance

                                             to stop.

Begin to hear,

to see.



Braids swing with gentle movement

silver cuffs glinting in the sunlight-

A head thrown back in full, rich laughter,

Rumbling in joyous tones.

Bags bounce against the curves of thighs,

Keys jangling, clattering


Like the hum of contradicting melodies

through many tinny headphones,

the music made alien

by it’s distortion.

Smoke curls from fingers

Which then raise drinks to mouths,

Which then gesture for cabs as hands rise ever upwards-


Humanity flitters through the streets

Around edges of silent stone and roaring metal,

As life pours on

                                              and on

and on.


Quarter to- The next train pulls in

and 3 steps down from the station exit

she sits in transitoriness

welcoming the tides of human soul

pouring through the gates.


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