NEXT STOP

It is small, dark and desolate,
tucked away in a corner
that no one wants to visit.
They all stop there, as required,
but only rarely does anyone
get off and it always seems
a sudden, reluctant decision.
Most don’t even peer out the windows
when it stops there, they avert
their gaze wondering if anyone
will rise to leave, not wanting
to be seen looking, a transfixion.
It is a station from which
you step off only once
and, no matter how many other
stations you visit, embarking
and disembarking, it is here
everyone knows you leave only once.
Everyone imagines they have seen
the station agent waiting patiently
at the end of the platform along the river
but in truth, he has never been seen
for you meet him but once
and there can be no speaking of it later.

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