PROBOSCIS

train up to town
fills the rail like an expanding proboscis
hungry
and
hoovering

stops rarely and reluctantly

stations way over across the tracks i've never stopped at Dagenham Heathway/Beacontree
are thick with cut-out people 
distant and waiting and small 
but detailed
with
white headphones and low satchels
like
a
vision
of an alternate life/a different dimension
with
similar stops/so slightly changed

the train is quiet going this way at this time
and the sun makes a flare on the greasy window
shining
the
scratches
into slits of atomic light
and
the angle of a small plane
coming out of City Airport
makes
its
expanding and diffusing vapour trail
into
a
silver teardrop

towns new skyline bulges and stabs and prods and slices
into new postcards over old flats
and
all
the
workman cranes lean this way and that
tied and still
alone
for the weekend