Tuesday, 13 December 2011

at the station

I seek shelter from the rain in the waiting booth at the station. It has a roof but the sides are partly penetrable and the rain is freezing cold. 12 minutes till the train comes and leaves again. It's the end of a very long and winding track. Two young girls occupies the bench and giggle. They talk about boys and what go give them for Christmas. I stop myself before I suggest: hedgehogs. They wouldn't get it anyway. They decide on articles that were not very boyish in my time, skin-cleaning stuff and perfume. Maybe they hope their boyfriends would smell better and have less acne. What do I know.

An elderly man looking feeble but cocky drags a can of strong beer from his plastic bag. He may have been a gentleman or a womanizer in his days, but now … He glances secretly and repeatedly at the young girls and I have no trouble imagining what he is thinking. As we walk to the train he makes some sort of a pirouette to get a good look at two other girls' asses almost loosing his balance. This was probably his last chance. The dusk has ended.

still no frost
something forgotten sprouts
in the gravel

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