The Duchess of Nowhere

Little voice that piques and prances

I can hear you over these bad speakers,

close.

Nothing more familial or familiar

voice of my roots, ashy

Mechanically cold.

Distant.

Impossible for you to be

here,

for your voice to be anything

besides imitation,

a bittersweet illusion.

Keep your heart always in good humour

For we all ache the morning after great mistakes

And hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner

  It’s hard to cope with an unseen future

All the world rests on our worried shoulders

So keep your heart always in good humour

  Morning comes with terror’s rumour

Flooding the mind with last’s nights blunders

And hindsight laughs that we could not see her…

The geometrically lit windows,

3

stacked and                                                                       two                      beside

a row of darkness between

from the train,

the streetlights

yellow or red, romantically

remind riders of life outside

outrospection

lives beside the travelling t h o u g h t

offices with investment, meetings, and deadlines

your mind

comprised of…