On a long journey north by train

two young guys in T-shirts and jeans

pored over a plastic boxed set of miniature chess

bought on Ebay for pleasure not gain,

red and white pieces with fiddly pegs in holes,

a small tray incorporated in the base

with conquered plastic spoil lodged there. 

 

Two phones lay ignored

coffees in polystyrene cups growing cold

as the outside flashed by like an unanswered prayer.

One chewed his nails the other squirmed

while more than a hundred miles came and went

no words spoken.  The sun began to give up

over Chesterfield, passengers asleep or seeming intent

while the two boys remained undisturbed

oblivious to all points north. 

 

No one knows if the game was ended

but they left and went on their way,

leaving two cups that were placed with a cold dribble, into a black sack

yet more plastic spoil

never used as evidence or proof of either looking back.