if you must touch me, make it brief

I am averse to women with designs

my life wanders its own sweet way,

runs on long-distance parallel lines

 

avoiding people doesn't come easy

takes a full life-time of deliberation

alone in a cold third-class carriage

that never quite reaches a station

 

tunnels never ending, dumb that

wild clatter as rolling stock slows,

memories like rusty cyclinders,

up ahead a frantic whistle blows

 

pulling the communications cord

risks sanctions, maybe a big fine

daylight shows me a new junction

the latest diversion, or is it mine?

 

question is: should I get off here?

will I ever find the Way Out sign?

why did I forget my umbrella, for

the weather looks far from fine?

 

on a platform ghostly but crowded

I strive to beat my pathway in vain.

giving up, watch the guard waving

it's time to re-embark on the train