Imaginary Journeys on a Electric Railway

When the sun is yet to set
on empires of spice, sugar
and clippers rounding the Cape Horn.

Passengers jostle while
children yet to be born
eat ice cream on the prom.

A bell rings:

And the shaky journey begins.
From steamers to turbines
cutting through a navy at Spithead.

A hurdy gurdy organ plays:
I’m forever blowing.
To the crowd now born and grown.

Recruits between the wars.
Marking time.
Marking time.

Waiting for the pinch of
Austerity to be no more.
Sunken and already old.

Grandchildren eat ice cream
and bubble gum.
Chewing on a dozen Hiroshima’s.

Minutemen with fingers poised.
Mods and Rockers,
pursued by Ton-up boys.

The ring of a bell;
a turn of the hurdy gurdy,
and a ride along the shore.

A small crowd at the terminus
gathers as we pass.
They are watches of this incident.

Poised between stillness and motion;
next to unborn, next to dead.
Train riders getting ready for their go.

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