Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Please Mind the Gap between the Train and the Platform



                                                           By Charlie Dixon 


Cold concrete seeps through denim,

worms its way in, and settles in the centre of your chest.

It beats with the barbarous chit-chat of heinous daydreams

written across the walls of bathroom cubicles.

 

There’s a girl with a guitar on the corner.

She’s singing Nirvana in time with

the sound of an approaching train.

I wonder about other lifetimes.

 

Could we have been friends, once?

 

The music fades out as the doors close behind us.

 

Then, four more stops on the Northern line.

We’re in an entirely different world from the last.

 

It’s that easy.

 

The city doesn’t sleep with the sky,

but Embankment, notably quieter in the evening.

The air moves a little more freely

in the dusted glow of a streetlight.

 

London’s pretty when the sun sets right.

A showcase of its own artistry reflected

in the eyes of a stranger, or a storefront window.

The skyline paints the pavement red,

flows through the spaces between rusted metal bars

in ribbons of orange and pink.

 

The leaves are beginning to change...


About the Author: Charlie Dixon is a queer writer from the north of England. Having recently completed an MA in creative writing, she is branching out into the industry with the primary aim of understanding, and of being understood.



No comments:

Post a Comment