Ghost boy
By David Stavanger
I knew this boy
a boy who never knew me
reflected in the cracked stained glass
of a city train full of morning corpses
their coffee stubble and panadol eyes
clutch papers trembling to the rumbling
of a diesel engine long-gone.
ghost boy
your red hood and washed out eyes
frosty to the a.m sharpness of
business suits pointy and important
that bustle through us as
we are not net profit
we are not flow chart
we are yesterday