Ficly

cinquains on trains (abridged)

Raining.
Lesbians on train.
Awkwardly using phone.
Looking down at floor, shoes, twitter.
Peeking.

Chiobu
at two o’ clock.
Pants worn short, too damn high,
could trace outline up to the thigh
Should stop.

Children
playing with poles,
running in the carriage.
Parents gesture, “hush, child, hush now”.
Stand still.

Stalling
and starting, the
train rattles to life, and
dies again: so much for expect-
ations.

Tunnels
into Braddell. I
look into empty platforms.
Seeking out faces, hoping for
a friend.

Orchard.
Streetlights as trees,
Vehicles as people,
Department stores as families
And friends.

Train seats
filled with cellphones.
The person is not there.
The only thing that remains now: me-
ssages.

Chiobu
has left the train
There is nothing left to
look at in the carriage. I am
quite sad.

Inter-
racial couple
playing with baby girl.
She looks more like her father, who’s
dancing.

Bugis.
Land of insects.
I forgot my_ Baygon._
Be gone, insects, be gone, just leave
me alone.

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