Train station

The diesel train hurls into the black night ahead.

Its close lights stare straight, like the eyes of a serpent.

The station exudes a sense of dislocation,

a neither-world between the past and the future,

a track-side platform to pause the passing present,

where the plot of life waits for the door to open.
We pass blankly through the stop stations on the route.
Finally, alighting, we board our lives again.