Theo Lathouras
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An Ode to Sydney Trains

4/28/2017

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and the places they've taken me. 
Picture
hot wednesday night
march, ten fifty

station empty, filled
by the air of the city

cigarettes and concrete
harbour pulsating
carbon dioxide, cooking meat
history dying beautfully,
​intoxicating
Picture
from circular quay station
A dollar eighteen
homebush termination
all with eyes to a screen

with an opal
am free as a wave
that wears at the ancient headland
​that the queen to us once gave
Picture
these tunnels are the portals
between class, lives and times
mere mortals
equal in our silence we ride

all heading somewhere
to each other, unknown
yet this small space we share
for 13 minutes, like a home

Picture
we listen in on each other's conversations
rent, problematic children
and romantic depreciations 

we never dare ask of the other's world
we sit, we gaze, but never unfurl
the ball of fermenting tales of the days events
or the anguish inside, which we so yearn to vent
Picture
but once did i see 
this film of inner city alienation
fractured by an infectious joy
on the night of gay celebrations

an elated young woman, immune to train rider muteness
burst into song, and then a thing of beauty
blossomed as the carriage of commuters
lay down their pride
and joined her in a chorus

Picture
but there are times when some talk
when deeply unwanted
those who are cold,
to humanity absconded

with new found strength from the oblivious tunnel
​their tongue as a fist
the weak they pummel
for the the clothes that they wear or the race of their mother
for their ancestral faith, for being an other

those of good heart speak up and defend
a recording to sunrise a bystander will send

Picture


On we ride
under cool white lights
under streets silent
subdued by the night

an announcing voice calls
a familiar name
you pull yourself up
​you step off the train

Picture
you are yourself again
in your world of your own
lips are unsealed,
you stand, you are home

the anonymous journey,
the people you saw,
the lives you witnessed,
the stories you bore

are lost to the tunnel,

the black of the night
consumed by the city
​and turned into light

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