Merrylands – Hayli Thompson

I wonder why
They come and go
Never to return at the same time,
In the same way they left
Onboard the silver bullet.
They wait and listen
monotonous announcements.
Minutes to wait,
Pauses to endure.
At Merrylands,
they stand patiently, bored.
Reading print, drowning music.
My bag is heavy, drawing
an indent
into my already curled posture.
I wonder,
Does it feel the same for them?
Or are we all deaf spirits on that train,
Seven stops to Central.