Poem 9

Train human

An old and farsighted man
sits on the train station
in the summer night
with a rolled newspaper
in one hand and a can
of beer in the other,
and every five seconds
he is drinking his beer
as if this is the last thing
he is going to do,
before he takes on
his sack, and disappears
into the darkness
between high-rised
buildings and town homes

twelwe minutes
after midnight

then,

comes the rain


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