Catching the 8 o’clock train


I have a recurring dream about you. I’m leaving work, a hard manual 9 to 5, which actually finishes at 8.

I can tell because its dark out and I’m rushing to catch the last train. On an empty platform I sit and wait, petrified its all too late.

I swear its these damn safety shoes like automatic brakes, part of the scheme to prolong this greasy affair.

I look up at the moon and I think of you, knife shining in hand. Sitting on our kitchen table in soft light

Straddled in someone else’s arms.

The train slithers in and I cut its doors open. Ill be damned if im too late…

Failed by tedious days, ugly boots and late trains.

At this point of the dream, I burst through the front door.

The air smells like cream and the oven is on. Looks like you’ve been hosting all along. My laces untangle themselves, my coat jumps behind the couch,

Im mad. Tears hazing my sight, betrayal sure is bitter. Thing is I always knew you were a giver but did you really have to lay out the almond butter.

Heavy angry steps into the kitchen and there you are not strewn allover another’s lips

But glowing in fridge light just where I left you

my cheesecake


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