BO S 012

the train gathers faces and departs gradually
stench of clogged creeks wash its spilling sides
a fresh drizzle carpets upcoming platforms
whose contents look towards the clock anxiously
each station adds stories to an obese train
that overflow from its sides like a grotesque sandwich
blurs of the night dot the scenery outside
the train takes with it the sounds coming from factories
and slums too, even collecting glances and stares
from dimly lit windows and car windshields
it empties itself bit by bit at every stop
losing weight slowly through the humid night
towards the end becoming hollow and nearly lifeless
lit by the fluorescence of flickering tubes
hummed by slanting ceiling fans thick with dust
it offers its open ribs to its programmed end
where a full platform awaits

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