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Gratis again

In that ripped, holey train;

Only a penny in my hand

Oracles the lines of my day.

So I stay

Between the toilet and that sweaty man

And sway-

Tadam- tadam, tadam-tadam…

Just that, then blank,

And again-

The rusty toilet,

Green flashing trees,

Sprinting houses,

And the silk-tie sweaty man.



As a prelude of a drama play

We weave between the city’s garbage pits.

The paid seats finally began to fill,

Smokers fall in their galore

To pin my mortal suffocation;

They know the story,

Which presents again:

You see,

Those childish bare feet,

In self indulgence deeply drenched,

Climb the peak of their sticky day

Up, where the rails leach the hill,

The busted windows shrink in squeals

To meet the stones-

The big, dirt filled, livid stones-

Where every hit bursts in irony…



In this white-collar, heavy train

No one claims insane, but the quiet…

Oh, that quiet stiffness is undeniable.

Merely the bended wheels are crying:

Tadam-tadam, tadam-tadam…

So ordinary,

The hours switch between

The sky clouds, the smoke clouds,

And then again,

In the hallways of the gratis train,

Between the bags of cans,

The aged suitcases with the metal corners,

And this umbrella stubbed between my ribs.



The man- two faces down-

With the highly pale frown

Muttering his song that goes:

Tadam-tadam, tadam-tadam…

To make himself breathe between the hush;

His head leans back on the man behind,

Can’t even reach the bottom

In fall of peace…

They won’t let him go,

(As he was just a broken window’s draft)

Same “they” will scoop him out

When the song is done:

Tadam-tadam, tadam-tadam…



I haven’t left my monotonic post.

The lavatory door swings open/close.

No windows stand in front of me,

But through the reeking hole I can see

We are still moving-

Tadam-tadam, tadam-tadam…



This gratis plea, do you believe

Is only a sidewalk of the life we live?