I have no sit on this train
I squat on this dirty floor.
I put my take away dreams on the side.
That way I can postpone their pursuit forever
Or until they will go off like fish,
Rotting away in my soul’s fridge.
I look up – there’s a Match dot com add
I have a future husband already , I say.
I picked him up in a rush like one puts an item in an online basket.
He cries at the back of my mind tangled up in miscellaneous thoughts.
My womb is hurting from imagined abortions .
Jealousy gnaws at my putrefied soul.
Death cajoles my tired self.
The tramps tell me they like my shoes.
I don’t, my future husband likes them…
Still, I have no sit on this train…
I’ll get off and get the next one
That way I can postpone the arrival
To that somewhere I don’t want to reach.