The train shuffles almost endlessly, sometimes a muted ocean hum,
sometimes little earthquakes, baby Richters.
We leave behind unshelled groundnuts, a few metres of piss,
peppering the tracks along with little cigarette butts fed to a deafening windy roar
We have no plans, running into automatic doors, through shaky hallways
until we are giddy and giggling, past people who sleep without drawing the curtains
& past lovers who covertly draw love on each other’s skin in the little coffin dark.
The view mostly looks the same at night until bursts of freckled lights make us
guess where we are now, namedropping cities. But it is mostly dark, most of the time
we are only looking at our semi-reflection double exposed unto a marquee of cities & kampungs.

We are only going to Singapore. But the train was as long as a London flight.